


The Owl Well

by bowie_queen



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Cults, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowie_queen/pseuds/bowie_queen
Summary: Toby finds a wishing well and makes a wish that ends up bringing Sarah back to the Underground where she finds herself unwittingly becoming a member of a cult—a cult dedicated to the worship of an Owl Goddess. She learns that her task within the cult—as Champion—is to be the Goblin King's saviour. However, the Goblin King appears to require very little saving. Especially by her.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 39
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

For I am the King of Owls.

Where I float no shadow falls.

I have hungers, such terrible hungers, you cannot know.

Lords, I sharpen my talons on your bones. 

By Louise Erdrich (The King of the Owls). 

* * *

Sarah woke with a start. Everything was quiet and she didn't sense any presence in her room but something woke her all the same. She climbed out of bed and headed for her balcony. Outside the night air was crisp, but bearable even in her flimsy nightgown. 

The first thing she noticed was the music. She could hear the fast beating, melodious music weaving up through the labyrinth from the direction of the forest. With her hands on the railing, she leaned over and could make out the glowing luminescence of a bonfire. 

Her interest was piqued. She licked her lips and rushed back inside for her robe. She knew the Goblin King would not be pleased if he found her leaving the castle at night, or indeed her rooms. 

But something about that music was stirring her blood; calling it to action. Sarah had to get a closer look. Also, she didn't give a fuck about what  _ he  _ thought. 

The journey through the castle was uneventful and swift. The shortcut to the forest also released her unhindered. Before long, she was so close to the music she could feel the thrum running through her body. 

Sarah stopped short of entering the circle of firelight. Instead, she found sanctuary up a nearby tree that was nestled in the shadows. Her hands and feet found purchase up the wide trunk with ease and skill she wasn't sure she naturally possessed.

Sarah sat nestled in the canopy, astride a wide branch, looking down upon a group of the dancing fae. 

It didn't take her long to see the Goblin King front and centre, weaving his gyrating body between his fellow dancers. Sarah's eyes wandered from him to the musicians playing the Underground versions of flutes, fiddles and drums. Even the fire was entranced by the magic they were emitting from their instruments; it was swaying in time and licking at the heels of the fae. 

Sarah had never seen anything like it. And the urge within her to join, grew exponentially as she watched from her lichen-covered bough. She had to dig her fingers into the rough bark to stop from swinging herself off the branch into the fray. 

Soon enough she was distracted by the change in tempo and timbre of the music. Sarah became aware that every single dancer was now slowly, and sensually removing their clothing. Her eyes found the Goblin King again, now half naked with only his tight trousers, gloves and his medallion on his body. Sarah noticed that he was— unusually for him—barefoot. 

She looked away, from guilt more than embarrassment, and focused on the musicians again. It was then when she noticed a female fae with long ebony hair down to her ankles not dancing, but just swaying in time. She was incongruous by her lack of movements. She wore a cloak made entirely of owl feathers and a crown of dried wildflowers. 

Sarah nearly gasped as this unknown fae, suddenly dropped her cloak, forcing every other dancer to sink to the ground. They were all completely naked, kneeling before the female. All except the Goblin King, who Sarah quickly realised was now completely nude aside from his medallion. He had even removed his gloves. He stood before the naked, previously-cloaked female and canted his head with a smile. 

As he tipped his head, gold streaks glittered in his hair, contrasting with the black streaks he also sported. The contrast made his blonde hair appear almost silver in the fusion of moon and firelight. 

The soft firelight flickering off his taut muscles, and casting shadows over his porcelain-fine features, lent him an air of absolute authority even in his state of undress. His makeup and face paint in shades of gold and black only enhanced his natural fae markings, making him appear godlike. He also appeared cognizant of this fact, Sarah observed wryly. Especially given what was happening below the waistline. 

Sarah exhaled and tore her eyes away from what no trousers could hide. At least, no trousers he would wear. She settled on watching the gentle ripple and flex of his chest as he moved and the way his eyes danced in the firelight. 

The music still played on, but it had become mere background noise. Sarah ripped her eyes away from the Goblin King's lithe, naked form to observe the unknown female. She didn't have an owl tattoo unlike everyone else. At least, she couldn't see it. 

She just stood there, her arms outstretched and her chin held high. The Goblin King started circling her, his eyes roaming her naked body. Up and down his eyes raked, taking everything in. Tension coiled in Sarah's stomach but she was quick to ignore it. It was only when he started running his naked finger down her spine that Sarah reacted. 

She had been leaning forward, entranced by the scene in front of her. As she watched the King bring both his hands onto the female's shoulders and start stroking her supple, silky-looking skin, she lurched forward. Her hands wrestled for purchase, knocking some loose twigs and leaves fluttering to the ground. Sarah was reluctant to admit jealousy had made her careless. 

She held her breath but nothing changed. No accusing eyes turned her way. The King was sliding his hands around the female's hips as everyone watched on in exuberant worship. 

Slowly, Sarah—gritting her teeth—started easing back along the branch to avoid either plummeting to the ground or being caught spying by a bunch of naked fae. 

She gasped as the branch she had been leaning on gave a loud crack. She swiftly scooted back into the denser foliage but the damage was done. The branch swung from the tattered timber it remained tethered to like a child's wiggly tooth. 

The music stopped. The flickering of the firelight stopped. It seemed everything but her heart rate stopped. Sarah watched as the branch froze in midair. This was bad. 

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she pushed herself as close as she dared to the trunk of the tree. 

She heard a soft rustle in front of her. Quiet and soft, but it felt like ten thousand drums in the present stillness of time. With a child's logic, she willed the world away with eyes firmly shut. 

"Champion." 

His voice was passive. He didn't sound angry. She cracked one eye to see the King, sitting on her branch, (or what remained of it) still naked. One leg was dangling down, the other crooked up with his arm resting on his bent knee. 

"Goblin King." 

His face cracked into a dark grin. "You should have stayed in the castle. This is no place for a mortal such as yourself." 

"Who is she?" Sarah didn't know why she cared. 

"She is none of your concern." 

"I haven't seen her before." 

"And nor are you likely to again." His voice brooked no refusal. There was something final, yet sad in his tone of voice; a kind of wistful longing. 

"Are you threatening me?" Fear and determination pricked at her skin in equal measure. She managed to keep her voice level and her eyes stony. She would happily push him off his perch if she had to. 

He tilted his head and frowned slightly before he laughed. "I don't mean that you will die, or that I would kill you. I simply meant that you are mortal and should never have seen her in the first place. And once I have completed the rite, she will not appear in this world again." 

As he sighed, Sarah got the feeling he was leaving a lot unsaid. 

"Is she—?" 

"Why are you here, Curadh?" 

"I don't know." She gripped the trunk tighter. "I woke and found myself coming here." 

"Interrupting an Earnáil na n-ulchabhán ritual is a grave offence." 

"Am I not part of The Earnáil whatsit?" 

"Yes, but not a fully-fledged member," he said, with a deep sigh. "And you've made it clear that this is not what you want." 

Sarah left his statement unrefuted. She must have imagined his hint of bitterness in his last statement. 

"I can only hold back time for so long, Curadh. She could unfreeze herself with but a thought." He looked down towards where Sarah guessed the raven-haired beauty stood naked and frozen in time. 

The way he intoned her cult-name—Curadh— had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. 

She nodded and glanced at him. His expression was softer than it had been earlier, despite the harshness in his voice. The confusing creature, Sarah thought with a mental shake of her head. 

"Perhaps one day you could take part in this rite." He held out a crystal in his glove-less hand. "And then you could have the honour of meeting her. But until then…" 

Sarah clasped his crystal and instantly found herself back in her room upon her bed. 

Sarah was bewildered. What had drawn her to that rite so hastily? Who was that female? Why were they dancing? Why wasn't she invited? Why were they all naked? Why did the Goblin King touching that female create ineffable reactions inside her?

Sarah was dubious about how much sleep she was going to get if any after all she had witnessed. So she sat outside in the cool air of her balcony listening to the music and watching the bonfire. 

A year and a half ago, there was no way Sarah would have cared about any of those answers. She would have just wanted to go home. 

She looked out across the Labyrinth and traced its many paths with her eyes. She sighed deeply. Part of her was still reluctant, but another blossoming part of her was about ready to acknowledge this was home. 

She wondered how the Goblin King fit into her developing concept of home. After all, he was the reason she was here in the Underground after all. 

Him, and her brother of course. Though neither of them could be held totally accountable. She wondered if a small part of her had wanted this when that careless wish had been made eighteen months earlier. 

If they had never stumbled upon that wishing well… 

Sarah stood to return inside when something made her turn back around. 

A barn owl landed gracefully beside her, tucking his wings in and canting his head. Sarah glanced at it and quirked a brow. 

The Goblin King was suddenly before her and he knelt down in front of her, causing Sarah to recoil with shock. 

Hadn't he told her that he would kneel to no one?

"What—?"

"I couldn't go through with the rite," he said, his hand reaching out to her. "If there is a chance, however small, that you could save me, I know now that I want you to try." 

He swallowed hard as he watched her. His anguish was painted into every line of his face. Sarah knew it cost him a lot to be here before her like this. But it was what he said next that floored her. 

"Sarah, please." 

It wasn't so much that he had said please, but he had used her name. Her  _ actual  _ name. No one had called her Sarah in over half a year. 

"Say it again…" 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line was inspired by Ever After, "The part where you said my name." 
> 
> Anyway, I needed to write something lighter than my recent foray into darker fics haha. So this is lighter and romantic, but will include drama and angst as appropriate. And smut. Healthy, consensual smut. 
> 
> It's a multi chapter that I've been working on for some time, so I have a few chapters up my sleeve.
> 
> I started another one and got seven chapters in before I decided I hated it. I may go back to it. 
> 
> I will be working on the final installment of The Beck and Call Saga at the same time. Yay, for multi WIPs. Haha.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. :)


	2. The Wishing Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flowers mentioned at the start of this chapter are hopefully the correct North American Common names for them. They go by different common names here in New Zealand. :)
> 
> Bishop's lace or Queen Anne's Lace is known as wild carrot here.   
> Onion weed is also known as wild garlic or three cornered garlic. Hope that helps.

**Chapter One: The Wishing Well**

_ Eighteen Months Earlier when Sarah still lived Aboveground _

They had been traipsing through meadows of long grass and wildflowers for an hour. Bees hummed, birds chirped and the odd gust of wind swished through the bishop's lace and dry heads of grass. The smell of onion weed stung their nostrils as they crushed them underfoot. 

Silence had crept over the trek without warning. It was eerie, oppressive and enough to prickle the skin on the back of Sarah's neck and raise goosebumps down her arms. 

They were both in shorts and t-shirts, but all her exposed skin was suddenly prickly and ultra sensitised. It should have been her first warning. 

Lush green grass replaced the tanned amber fields they were previously meandering through. The white, yellow and orange flowers were supplanted by blue, purple and red flowers. The air was cooler and they were surrounded on three sides by dense, riotous hedgerows in front of thickets of evergreen trees. 

"Look, Sarah." Toby pointed towards the centre. "A well." 

Sarah observed the moss-covered stone well dead-centre of the meadow. Something warned her to stay away. Something else urged her to go closer. 

Sarah clutched her elbows in her hands as she peered around the scene. With Toby's voice, the sounds came flooding back: a tree creaking in the wind as it rubbed against another bough, the odd pine cone falling from the trees, and the low hoot of an owl. 

Not a barn owl as they don't hoot, Sarah concluded. A bit odd to be out at this time of the afternoon, but as long as it wasn't a barn owl she would remain calm.

Toby surged forward and Sarah followed, chewing her lip. Despite being in his twenties, he hadn't lost his childlike curiosity. Sarah, however, was a bit more wary given her history. 

The well was solid. Despite how old it looked, it wasn't crumbling or decrepit. Perhaps the moss kept it together. 

"Look, Sarah." 

She heard the excitement in his voice and she knew he was trying to distract her. 

"There are carvings in every second stone," Toby said, kneeling down to inspect the well. 

Sarah glanced at the carvings.  _ Owls.  _

"They're owls." Toby was beaming. "All different types and poses. No two are the same." 

Sarah peered inside the well. There was no bucket, no chain or rope, just an apparently bottomless hole lined with stone. She stepped away from the well and glanced around the meadow as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows of the trees. 

Sarah watched Toby straighten up and dust his hands off on his shorts.

"Hmmm, fascinating." Toby walked around and then peered in. "It doesn't appear to be a well used for water." 

Sarah felt a chill race down her spine as if she knew what his next words would be. 

"It's like a well from that book you found once." 

Sarah blanched. After her Labyrinth run, she had grown up and left magic behind. But one day she had found a wee green-covered book in her parents' attic. It was called The Owl Well. And the purpose of the well was to—

"It's a wishing well," Toby said, patting the aged stone reverently. "I wish—" 

"Toby, no—" 

"—that Sarah's husband gets better and can go home to live with her again." 

Sarah braced herself for the thunder. But the skies remained whole with no lightning splitting the heavens. A few leaves twirled from a tree towards the ground and an owl hooted. 

Not a barn owl, Sarah told herself fiercely. 

A breeze rustled through the grass, pushing the shiny blades like a wave on the water. Everything remained calm and serene. Sarah had clenched her jaw, and balled her hands into fists, but as the seconds ticked by with nothing happening she exhaled and relaxed her stiff muscles. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Toby observed. "You would think you didn't want Henry to live." 

"Of course I want Henry to live, but wishes aren't to be trifled with, Toby." she scrubbed her hand over her face. "Come on, let's go back." 

Toby rummaged into his pocket as Sarah started backing away. 

"Perhaps it will work if I use a coin," Toby said, holding up a silver coin in his hand. 

"Tobes," Sarah warned. "Don't mess around with wishes, bud." 

"Don't patronise me, Sarah Williams-Warne." Toby laughed as he flicked the coin into the well. 

Sarah rushed forward and watched as it descended into the gloomy depths. It landed with a small clink after many moments. Lumps of moss were wedged under her nails as she dug her fingers into the stone. She was quite possibly overreacting. 

"I wish that Sarah's husband gets better and gets to live with her again." 

"Toby, no!" Sarah turned to face him, shaking her head. Exasperation, fear and reluctant acceptance all waged within her. 

As before, nothing striking happened. The owl was joined by a second owl with a deeper hoot. But everything remained the same. Sarah ran her fingers through her hair until they snagged on her messy bun. 

"Enough, Toby." Sarah gripped his arms. "Do you not remember what I told you about careless wishes?" 

Sarah had told Toby about wishing him away to the Goblin King, but he never truly believed her. 

"What harm can there be from this wish?" Toby shrugged out of her grasp. "Even if it could come true, you would get your husband back. He wouldn't die, Sar." 

"A lot of harm," Sarah muttered. "Like when I" —she didn't want to frame the words as if they could be interpreted as a wish—"wished you away to the Goblins."

"That wasn't real, Sarah." 

"So what good does wishing for Henry to get better do?" Sarah's eyes started prickling. "He's dying and will die, Toby. I've had months to come to terms with it. Wishing it away won't stop the inevitable. There is always a price paid for wishes. Sometimes they outweigh the benefits."

"I'm sorry, Sarah." He pushed his curly blonde hair out of his face. "I just wanted to offer some hope."

"And you have, Tobes." Sarah brought her younger brother into a hug. "You've given me a holiday away from twenty-four-seven care."

"It's the least I can do." Toby broke away from her hug and ambled back towards the well. "And it's mom that is sitting with Henry now. I got the easy job." 

Sarah sniffed as she watched her brother peer into the well. "I have loved exploring with you. Henry would have loved our mini-vacation too." 

Sarah felt her tears brimming and dashed them away with the back of her hand. She was mostly cried out these days watching her husband suffer and slowly die from his illness. Toby had taken a day out of his week to give Sarah a break from sitting by her ailing husband in hospice care. 

"We should head back," Sarah said, as she flipped open her phone. She hadn't any urgent phone calls from Karen or her dad, so she had to assume Henry was still alive. A break had been helpful but it still had caused anxiety to flood through her. 

'What if he dies before I get back?' had been the question that ran through her mind hourly. She practically lived at the hospice. Thankfully, she could work from her laptop so she still had an income. 

"Sure." Toby patted the well and started heading back towards the colourless field they had come from. 

Toby had only taken two steps when Sarah knew his wish had been a mistake. She hadn't been overreacting. 

There was a rumble deep in the well. 

Toby spun around to face the well again, while Sarah moved defensively in front of him. 

A whirlwind of leaves and feathers came flying out of the centre until it was a solid column above the mouth of the well. Sarah and Toby both edged backwards, unable to look away. The column of feathers and leaves dispersed from the top, looping down around the perimeter of the glade until it began forming a circle around Toby, Sarah and the well. 

Sarah had watched in horror as the gap in the circle came to a close. The leaf and feather ring kept moving like a record player without the music. 

"Sarah?" 

"You shouldn't have made a wish, Toby," Sarah whispered back. 

"What's happening?" 

"Magic," Sarah choked out the word like it was poison. 

Over the rustling din of the ring of leaves, Sarah heard the hoots of the owls. There was more than one owl. And more than one species of owl. The hoots were joined by whistles, barks, shrieks, hisses, coos, and wavering cries.

Sarah looked up at the darkening sky to see owls of all different sizes directly parallel with the ring of leaves. Sarah spotted snowy owls, barred owls, tawny owls, great horned owls, spotted owls, eagle owls, screech owls, and at least three or four barn owls, amongst others she couldn't name. 

Karen had gifted Sarah many owl books over the years when she had caught her researching barn owls at the library as a teenager. Sarah didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't at all interested in owls. She couldn't very well explain why she had been looking up barn owls, specifically. 

"What do we do, Sarah? Toby asked, a tremor in his voice revealing his nerves. 

"Stay still," Sarah hissed, unsure what else they could do. They were surrounded. 

The circle of owls lowered to the ground and one by one they transformed from bird to beast, or rather fae. Nearly thirty fae wearing cloaks and masks in matching shades of white and brown, made a ring within the leaves and feathers, still racing around the perimeter. It was like being surrounded by clones. They all looked identical. 

Sarah grabbed Toby's arm and pulled him back towards the well as one of the masked figures stepped closer to them.

"Greetings, mortals," came a clear, crisp feminine voice behind the stark white of her mask. "You made a wish." 

Toby still hadn't processed what was occurring. 

"No." Sarah knew she was telling a lie. 

"You dare to lie to the guardian of a goddess, mortal?" she asked, her voice dangerously haughty. 

"I do not deny that the word wish was said," Sarah elaborated. "But his intent was not sincere." 

"Yet he has been touched by magic, so I would say his intent was exactly that." 

Toby glanced at Sarah with accusation in his eyes.  _ Not now, Toby.  _ She knew he was realising the truth of her wish decades before. 

"And what is more, he has made the wish in a very specific well." 

Sarah cleared her suddenly parched throat. "He intended to try and make me happy with the impossible dream." How on earth was she going to get out of this one? "His intent was never to call on magic." 

"Are you telling me, boy, that you are touched by magic but you do not believe?" 

"Well, I do now." Toby gave a nervous chuckle. "But I didn't before."

The crowd rustled and twittered at his words. 

"You are his guardian, and you do not tell him of magic?" 

"I did, but—" 

"I didn't believe her," Toby finished. "Sarah has quite the imagination on her I just thought…" 

Sarah closed her eyes as more restless sounds bounced around the crowd.  _ Don't tell them your name.  _

_ " _ We know, lad." The Guardian pushed back the hood of her cloak and unhooked her mask, revealing a pale chiselled face and diamond-clear blue eyes. She was smiling, revealing pointy canines and pushing her skin to form slight wrinkles around her eyes. Her hair was loose down to her waist in the most golden-blonde hair Sarah had ever seen. But it was tidy and not at all the rat's nest belonging to  _ Him.  _

"I am Athene," she curtsied to Sarah, which had Sarah recoiling with surprise. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Champion." 

"Er—" 

"I am the Guardian of Earnáil na n-ulchabhán." She stepped forward, gesturing to the crowd around her. "These are my family and my followers. We are here to grant your wish."

"No, thank you." Sarah mustered as much politeness and firmness as she could. 

The tittering got louder and angrier. Sarah swallowed her trepidation and scowled. 

"We don't want anything." Sarah crossed her arms. "I haven't wished anyone away so you can leave without any recriminations."

"A coin was placed in the Wishing well," Athene said, sternly. "We are obliged to fulfil it." 

"Well, I change the to wish to 'I wish that you didn't have to fulfil the wish.'" 

"That's not how it works." Athene stepped closer still, and her followers closed in ranks behind her. 

"Can you even stop the dead from dying?" Toby asked sceptically. 

"We can heal her husband of his ailment and return him to Sarah."

Athene clasped her hands in front of her and parted her lips to speak. 

"What is the price?" Sarah moved her hands from her chest to her hips. 

"A year and a day." 

"What does that m—" Toby started. 

"It means we can give you more time." She had a tepid smile. "A year and a day with your husband, but then we claim what belongs to us."

"And what exactly belongs to you?" Sarah asked, stepping forward to stare squarely in the Guardian's eyes. 

"We claim the boy as our heir." 

Toby paled and squeaked but Sarah just deepened her scowl. "He is not yours. I won him back." 

"But this is a new game with different stakes." Athene reached out a hand and gently, but firmly cupped her chin. She studied her eyes, before releasing her chin. "You are determined and strong, Champion. A true warrior. You would do anything for those you love." 

Sarah didn't acknowledge her words with anything more than a glare. 

"And if I refuse?" Toby asked, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin. 

"We are obliged to fulfil the wish." Athene reached and cupped Toby's chin this time. "And you are obliged to pay the price." 

"You can't take my brother." Sarah knew they would be willing to negotiate. 

"Have you got a better offer?" 

"A year and a day, and then my husband still dies?" 

"Our combined magic can not defer fate forever, Champion." 

"Well, a year and a day of him still suffering doesn't sound like a kindness." 

"He will be cured, albeit temporarily, of what ails him. He will lead a full and happy life until he comes out of remission." She turned away from them to pace around the circle, her hair swishing against the silken fabric of her cloak. "Then he will die. We give you a year and a day, but he will still die as intended." 

Sarah huffed. She knew what she had to do, but wondered if they would accept her alternate option. 

"You can't take my brother," she reiterated. "He has a family, a wife, two children, and a life—"

"We have a price, Champion—" 

"Yes, yes." Sarah flapped her hands dismissively. "Prices can always be negotiated. As I said, you can't have him, but you can take  _ me _ instead." 

Sarah could hear the rustle of cloaks as they all fidgeted and turned to one another to gasp, and whisper about the unravelling events. Toby cried out his shock. 

She ignored him. She hadn't travelled through dangers and hardships for ten hours without food or water to win him back, for him to just throw his life away like this. Sarah had made the original careless wish, to begin with. 

"You would sacrifice your life for that of your brother?" Athene was smiling again. "First your dreams, and now your life?" 

"I would." 

"Sarah, no; this is my fault," Toby shouted over the din of the cult surrounding them. 

"Hush, Tob—" She cut herself off when she almost said his name. 

"What makes you think you would be an equivalent substitute?" 

Sarah's lips twisted into a smile. "I, at the very least believe in magic." 

"Your brother does too." A pause. "Now." 

"I believe that the difference between us would be power, my kingdom and my will and they are my drawcards that T— my brother does not have." 

Sarah stared unwaveringly at Athene, blocking out Toby's sounds of protestation and confusion. 

Athene was beaming now. "Done. You will return to the Underground after a year and a day." 

That was too easy. 

Dismay and regret coiled in her stomach, but she wouldn't let Toby see her eyes glistening with tears. She had to stay strong for him. 

"Sarah, no," he repeated. 

"It's done, lad," Athene said softly. "Your sister becomes one of us at the moonrise of a year past tomorrow." 

"I am sorry, Sarah." Toby was sobbing beside her. 

"Enjoy your year with your mortal husband and your family, Champion." 

"My husband? What happens to him now?" 

"One of us will fly directly to him now and take our collective magic to heal him," Athene explained, pulling her hood back over her head. 

Sarah wondered if one of the masked figures was the Goblin King. She scanned her eyes over them, but none of them had a single distinguishing feature to differentiate them from one another. 

If he was there, it gave her grim satisfaction to see her with her hair plastered to her scalp, and her white t-shirt clinging to her sweat covered body and the dark rings under her eyes from months of not sleeping.  _ Suffer,  _ she thought maliciously.  _ Let's see you be my slave now.  _

Sarah wasn't going to analyse or entertain any further feelings on the subject. If he was here, she was sure he would have spoken up and added some of his pompous insight into their conversation. She settled on assuming he wasn't present. Besides, she had more critical concerns than the Goblin King. 

She turned back to Athene. "Will my husband suffer?" 

"He will pass peacefully in his sleep shortly after he gets his new diagnosis." Athene reached out and stroked her cheek with cool fingertips. "We will be your solace when you return to us." 

"You can't have her," Toby yelled. 

He started charging at her, but a simple flick of the wrist and Toby was frozen, his eyes darting with panic. Sarah felt the scream in her throat replaced by hot fury. 

"Your love is admirable, young lad." Athene swept closer to his frozen form. "You can not save The Champion from her fate. Just spend your year and a day wisely." 

"Let him go," Sarah hissed. 

"It is done." 

Toby collapsed on the ground, and hurriedly pushed himself up to his feet. 

Sarah could see that he was seething. 

Through gritted teeth, he spoke, "I take the wish back." 

"What's done is done," Athene said and winked at Sarah. "The Champion knows this." 

Sarah lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. She glared into the ring of clones when one of them cleared their throat loudly.  _ And obnoxiously,  _ Sarah mentally added. 

"We leave you now so we can heal your husband." Athene reattached her mask. 

"Athene!" one of her followers yelled. "Foxes!" 

Sarah looked beyond the circle to see many different sizes and shapes of vulpine creatures peering into the ring. They couldn't get past the outer ring but Sarah could tell they were magical foxes, much like the owls. Sarah didn't know how, but she could sense their magic shifting and poking towards her. 

They all spun to face outwards, with their palms facing the foxes. 

Two of the cloaked clones came and stood closer to Sarah and Toby. They took a rather defensive stance either side of them. 

As one, the rest of them pushed their hands out and the ring of leaves and feathers raced outwards to push the interlopers back towards the trees. 

The foxes tried to push through the maelstrom but must have grasped the futility of their endeavour when the wind tore at their fur and shoved them back into the trunks of the trees with yelps and cries. 

When the Owl cult was successful, the feather band snapped back into place and the cult turned back to face their leader. The two that defended them retook their places. One of them, Sarah noticed, hesitated slightly as they left her side. 

Sarah could hear the whimpers and cries of the thwarted foxes disappearing into the forest. She turned her attention back to Toby who was pallid but bravely observing the events as they unfolded. 

Athene turned back to Sarah, nodding brusquely at her. "There are many gods and goddesses who could have answered your wish, Champion. Be grateful that the guardians of the Owl Goddess got to you first." 

And then in a flurry and a flutter, they all took off towards the skies, as the leaves and feathers plummeted back into the deep recesses of the well. 

Sarah watched, wordlessly as the owls flew off into the trees. The last owl—a barn owl—circled over once more before also disappearing. 

"Well, fuck." 

  
  



	3. A Year and a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Minor (very minor) character death. Touches on grief and mourning.

Chapter Two: A Year and a Day

When Sarah and Toby returned to the hospice, it was to a hive of activity. Henry had made a miraculous recovery. The Owl guardian, Athene, had fulfilled her portion of the wish. 

He returned home with her and he was shortly the picture of health— gaining weight, his hair and nails growing back and his skin no longer had the deathlike pallor he had sported for months. Henry went for checkups frequently and was always given a clean bill of health. Sarah pretended to be overjoyed, though she knew the truth. 

It was hard to be joyful when she knew it was only a temporary stay of execution. 

It was also difficult to adjust to life with her husband when she knew every second was a second closer to having him ripped from her again. Sarah tried not to let her solemnity sully what time remained, but it was difficult. 

Sarah spent most of her waking hours figuring out a way to revoke the wish. Meanwhile, Toby did nothing but apologise profusely every time they saw each other. 

Sarah thought of summoning the only powerful magical creature she knew to help her but settled on asking her trio of friends for any advice instead. 

"Athene?" Hoggle's blue eyes had nearly popped out of his skull. "You don't want to try and tricks her, Sarah. She is mighty powerful." 

Sir Didymus had claimed pretty much the same. Ludo had simply offered, "Athene strong." 

Sarah had tried asking for any little tidbit she could use, but they returned through her mirror after providing nothing but shakes of their heads and deflections. 

Sarah wasn't ready to quit though. Especially when Toby pointed out if she would be allowed back for Henry's funeral. 

After work one day, Sarah marched through the fields behind her town until she stumbled upon the well again. 

Sarah rubbed a silver coin between thumb and finger until she gave in and tossed it into the hole. 

"I wish to speak to Athene." 

Sarah had debated for a while how to word her request. She settled for direct and simple. She heard the coin clink against the bottom and then she waited. 

Minutes ticked by and there was no tell-tale wind or leaves and feathers. Sarah flopped back onto the grass and brought her knees up to her chin. Perhaps she had made the wrong wish. 

She rummaged in her pocket for another silver coin but didn't throw it in. She traced the edges as she felt tears pricking her eyes. 

"Champion?" 

Sarah spun around to see a cloaked figure behind her. They were still wearing their mask and it muffled their voice so Sarah couldn't determine if this was Athene or not. 

"Athene?" 

"No, I am her son, Eriché." 

"Oh." she turned back to the well. 

"You wished to speak to my mother." 

Sarah stood up, wiping her eyes as she turned to face him. "I did." 

"She has sent me in place of herself. May I help?" 

Sarah was initially annoyed, but Eriché was better than nothing. 

"My husband is to die and that very day you will take me Underground, correct?" 

"As agreed." 

"What of my husband's funeral?" 

He didn't reply straight away. He didn't even move. Not being able to see his face, Sarah didn't know how to react. There were no emotions or expressions to work or feed off. It was hard to even make eye contact with the dark holes where his eyes were. 

A sharp inhale preceded his words. "What of it?" 

"Well, I would like to attend but it won't be until after his death," she replied, crossing her arms, "Obviously."

"How long after he dies will you be able to hold his funeral?" 

Sarah glanced away from the imposing figure to stare blankly into the trees as if in thought. 

"Fifty years?" Sarah chanced, knowing it was futile. 

He chuckled, which surprised her. "We can not offer you that much time, Champion." 

"Worth a shot." 

"Would two weeks suffice?" 

Sarah chewed her lip and relaxed her arms. The coin was still in her hand and she turned it over and over in her palm with her fingers. 

"Ideally, no, as I do not want to go back but in truth, it is enough time to get what I have to do done." She sniffed and faced away from him. "I already have most of his arrangements for his funeral in place." 

He didn't say anything. She had to turn back to him to see if he was even still there. He stood motionlessly watching her through the eye holes in his pale off-white mask. 

Sarah exhaled out of her nose. "Two weeks will have to suffice, I guess." 

He nodded. "Is that all you require?" 

Sarah suddenly recalled another question she had. "What will my role be when I return to the Underground?" 

"You will be assigned a Protector who will teach you our ways," Eriché answered shortly. 

"So I am not to be a slave or a prisoner?" 

He canted his head. "Not at all. You are the Champion. Our mother esteems you highly for what you have achieved." 

"And you say I will be protected." She breathed in deeply, before puffing up her cheeks and letting the air out. "I assume that protection is against a certain King?" 

"What makes you think you would need protecting from  _ a certain King _ ?" His voice had lowered and his hands were tensing at his sides. Sarah quirked a brow at his reaction. 

Sarah shrugged. "Who else would I need protection from?" 

"You are fae touched, and therefore many would value you for your status and your power. You saw those foxes." His fingers twitched as he spoke. "Be grateful the owls granted your wish, not the foxes or worse." 

Sarah sniffed dismissively at the echoing of his mother's words. 

"Would the foxes have ripped me away from my life?"

"They would, and they wouldn't have gifted you a year with your husband." He stepped forward with his gloved hands on his hips. "And you would be their slave, or worse." 

Sarah absorbed that information silently. 

"There are many different cults in the Underground," he explained. "Most of them are represented by an animal or familiar. Not all gods and goddesses are as  _ benevolent _ as the one we worship." 

Sarah noticed a distinct note of bitterness as he said benevolent. She saved that information for later. 

"Right." Sarah nudged the ground with the tip of her shoe. "Well, I would thank you, but I don't think any of you are deserving of my gratitude considering—" 

"Considering we are giving you an extra year with your husband and then have just extended it to accommodate your needs?" 

Sarah gritted her teeth. "But what of the rest of my life? I love my husband but eventually, I would have started living again. But now—" 

"But now you get to live a very different life, but one you should have always had, Champion." 

Eriché clasped his hands behind his back as Sarah made an exasperated sound and buried her face in her hands. 

"Is there anything else you require?" He asked, his voice softer. "From me?" he added. 

"Our business is concluded," Sarah said, removing her hands from her face. She couldn't help sarcastically adding, "I appreciate the accommodations you've made."

"Until next time then, Champion." He gave her a shallow bow, before turning on his heel. She watched Eriché head into the treeline with his cloak billowing like a maelstrom around his body. 

Sarah was dealing with a shit tonne of grief. She could forgive herself for this moment of petty vindication. She pulled the fingers at his retreating back before she headed back home. 

* * *

  
  


Six months into her year, Henry announced that he had been invited for three weeks to join an orchestra on the other side of the country. 

Sarah felt her stomach knot at the thought of not seeing him for three whole weeks into their hastily diminishing time together. But she couldn't also begrudge him doing something he wanted when she knew he would never do it again. 

"But you won't get those three weeks back," Toby had implored her when she told him. 

"Nor will he." 

So she agreed to let him go. 

In his absence, Sarah walked frequently to the well. Never making another wish. Just reflecting on what had happened and what would happen. Sometimes she would give the well a kick out of sheer anger. 

She always felt eyes looking at her. They were probably owls. Wherever she went, she seemed to find owls watching her. 

She ignored them for the most part. Her eyes did linger longer on any barn owls she found. But not long enough to be noteworthy. 

The three weeks passed and Sarah attended a concert that Henry and his orchestra were presenting for a charity event. 

The music was bittersweet and Sarah cried most of the way through it. Especially when she saw her husband on stage, with the biggest grin on his face. 

Henry had grabbed life with both hands when he was miraculously cured. He was a different man to the steady and cautious man she had known and loved. He was brave, brazen and adventurous. Especially in their sex life. 

Sarah had never been unsatisfied with their sex life but it was now thrilling and exciting. Sarah felt like she was having an affair, but instead of cheating on her husband, she was cheating death. 

Or rather, she lied to him by omission every single day. She couldn't tell him the truth of his illness or let him know he was still destined to die. She just had to let him live and pretend everything was normal. Her acting classes were finally being utilised. 

A sudden clang of the gong brought her back into the present with a jolt. She glanced at Henry playing his violin with renewed vigour and deep concentration. Sometimes she almost believed he loved music more than he ever loved her. 

After one particular movement where Sarah had barely contained her sobs, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair in her peripheral. When she turned to look, there was no one there. Her heart was racing at her imagined sighting of the Goblin King. 

She shook her head, believing her heightened emotions had just got the best of her. 

* * *

  
  


With three months left, Sarah began tying up her own loose ends. She had no idea how to explain her disappearance but she made sure Toby got anything of hers that held any sentimental value. Most everything else would go to Henry's nephews and nieces. 

A twinge of guilt threaded through her at the thought of his sister's children. Henry loved them, and they had tried desperately for their own children. In the end, it was determined that Sarah was unable to conceive. 

Considering her future, perhaps it was best she didn't have any children after all. 

Would Athene and her cult have let her take her children with her? Would she have wanted to take them down there? 

* * *

  
  
  


"Love?" Henry called her from their living room.

"Yes, Henry?" Sarah left their bedroom to see what he wanted. She grabbed her towel and exited the room drying her hair. 

"I have some news for you, Sarah." Henry was seated at the dining table clutching an A4 piece of paper with both hands. The paper was visibly shaking. Sarah's stomach dropped. 

The year was almost up. She hadn't found a way to get out of Toby's wish and she hadn't a hope that it would all be forgotten. She still saw owls every day in broad daylight. 

"What is it, Hen?" 

"It's back?" 

"What's back? The cat? Jack? The future?" She offered a wan smile, but it was accepted with cool indifference. Sarah often used levity to bring her through the darkness of this year. 

"The cancer." 

Sarah swallowed and then rushed towards her husband, taking him in her arms. She hadn't gone with him to the Doctor's appointment today. He would have had to hear that news alone. The thought of him in the cold sterile room, hearing again that he was dying turned her stomach and clenched her heart. 

"The miracle only lasted a year, sweet Sarah," he cried into her hair. "It is back more aggressively than before, too." 

Sarah felt her eyes prickle and a lump form in her throat. "Is it early enough that they may treat it quicker this time?" 

Sarah ran her hand through Henry's dark brown hair. It had only started growing back after all the chemotherapy he had received. 

"No, my love." 

"But you have been going for frequent visits and—" 

"And it was like it had grown overnight." Henry passed her the letter with shaking hands. "I got another year with you. I had another year of making music. I have been blessed, Sarah." 

She sniffed in response, wiping her nose with her hand and blinking back tears as she read his letter. She knew this day would come, but she had hoped it would play out differently. How she wasn't sure. It was all so unfair. 

"All our previous plans are in place, Sar. At least we can just spend our final days together without worrying about taking care of the fine details." 

Sarah's chest was fit to burst and her throat ached from suppressing her emotions. 

She nodded and ran her fingers through his hair. 

"Maybe we can get another miracle?" 

"Please don't peg all your hope on that." Henry smiled wryly. "I can only hope for one miracle per lifetime." 

"You deserve to have at least two." 

He chuckled and pulled her under his chin. 

"Promise me something," Henry asked as he ran his fingers through her hair in return. "Promise that you will be happy. Even if that means you find happiness with someone else." 

"I promise," Sarah replied, kissing him on the soft skin of his neck. "I will find and marry Matt Damon." 

"You're too good for him." He tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed softly. "I am sorry I won't grow old with you, my love. You will continue to do so many amazing things with your life." 

Sarah started sobbing as the dams burst in her heart. She wouldn't go on to do anything, considering her life as she knew it would end with his. 

"You don't know if it is fatal yet, Hen." 

"Sar, the letter confirmed it." He released her and kissed her on the forehead. "I am resigned to my fate. I spent so many months being angry last time, that I haven't got it in me to feel angry again." 

He had been angry. Sarah had borne the brunt of his mood swings as he railed against his illness. Sarah had never seen him quite like that before. Every Henry was a new person unfamiliar and a stranger to her. Just when she thought she got to grips with the Henry he was, he would pull the rug out from under her feet and he'd be a new Henry she had to adjust to. 

"You should feel angry." Sarah balled the paper up in her own anger. "You cheated death only to end up back in her clutches." 

"But we got an extra year." He smiled widely so even his brown eyes twinkled. "How many people on death row can say that?" 

"You're too sunny and optimistic for me." Sarah smiled feebly back. "Matt Damon is surely more cynical and emotionally repressed than you are." 

Henry grinned at her. "That's the spirit. Now, as I am again dying, let us go and do something naughty before I pop my clogs." 

* * *

  
  
  


This time Henry only spent a week in hospice before he passed away; right on the button of one year and one day. He was surrounded by his parents and his sister's family with Sarah right in the thick of it, barely leaving his side. 

The optimism of his relatives that he would cheat death a second time had grated against her towards the end. The truth was painful, but she was the only one who would ever feel it. 

Toby was a great support in those days leading up to the funeral. He found some inner strength to provide succour despite how miserable he was with the knowledge he only had a few days left with his sister. 

Sarah cried for her husband every night, but she also cried for her brother and her parents. She was going to miss them, and more so she worried that her parents would be haunted by her disappearance. Would they search forever for her? 

The day of the funeral arrived and Sarah swore she saw at least twenty owls during the limo ride between her house and the funeral home. 

The service flowed smoothly until she had to present her eulogy. 

"Henry was a courageous man, fighting death twice in his life." Sarah swallowed to control the waver that was threatening her voice. "He found solace in his music and his art, and he thankfully had a talent that matched his passion so he could earn a living from what he loved doing. 

"Henry was a good, decent and honest man. He was a rarity that I had been fortunate enough to find—in all places—a karaoke bar. I will never forget how he sang Girls Just Want to Have Fun with his sister, Claudia. When it was my turn, he passed me the mic and asked me if I enjoyed his song. 

"When I told him that I had, he grinned and told me he looked forward to what I had to sing. Unfortunately, I had chosen badly in my tipsy state. But if I hadn't made such an awful selection, then he may not have come to my rescue and we may not have ended up dating each other. 

"I am forever grateful that I picked 'We Built This City,' by Starship and forgot half the lyrics. Henry had rushed up on stage to distract the audience from my floundering."

Sarah glanced up and caught the merest glimpse of blonde hair at the back of the hall. Sarah frowned as she scanned the crowd. She heard her father clear his throat and it brought her back. 

Sarah gave a wan smile. "I was half hoping Henry would rush up on stage to save me from this eulogy." 

The mourners laughed warmly. Sarah gazed around the room again, but the sighting of the blonde hair remained unrepeated and illusive. 

"I couldn't thank Henry enough for jumping in and helping me. But that was just who he was; a kind, open soul who—" 

Sarah closed her eyes and curled her lips under her teeth as she inhaled deeply through her nose. As the wave of sadness passed, she opened her eyes and exhaled. 

"He was a kind, open soul who put others before himself at nearly every opportunity. He taught me to not take life for granted especially when he was offered a second chance. 

"But he had a lesson to teach all of us—that no matter what life throws at us, and how unfair it may seem, there is always a way through. He showed us this by being a fantastic uncle and brother and husband." 

Sarah briefly shared some anecdotes, both funny and sad about Henry and their shared lives. On cue, his orchestra mates started playing a gentle melody as she concluded her eulogy. 

"Picture a wave in the ocean. You can see it, measure it — its height, the way the sunlight refracts as it passes through —and it's there, you can see it, and you know what it is, it's a wave. And then it crashes on the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just... a different way for the water to be for a little while. That's one conception of death for a Buddhist: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's meant to be."

"Henry was a wave that touched all our lives and I hope the ocean welcomes him back." 

Sarah could hear the sniffles and sobs of her friends and family as she left the podium. Claudia had her turn next and gave Sarah a strained smile as they passed one another. Sarah sat back down, and her father wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as Karen patted her knee. 

At the wake, Sarah was sure she saw a blonde-haired figure again. She was cradling Toby's baby in her arms when she saw the tips of blonde hair disappear into the crowd. 

Anger surged through her at the thought he was stalking her here. On all days. 

She meandered through the crowds following the blonde hair until it led her outside. Still cradling the baby, she headed into the little garden. One quick glance around was enough to ascertain it was empty. 

Sarah rocked her niece as she leaned back against the now-closed door. She was hyper-aware that she wouldn't get to see her niece again, let alone hold her. She slid to the ground, clutching the wee scrap of life, as tears flowed down her cheek. She was going to miss so much of everyone's lives. Of her own. 

Sarah heard a rustle in the magnolia tree, but before she could ascertain what it was, Toby came through the door. 

He looked down at Sarah sobbing and gently picked up his daughter from her.

"I will just take Milly inside to her mum and I will be right back." 

Sarah stretched forward and kissed Milly on the forehead. "Goodbye, little one." 

Sarah brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. Not a pose fit for a forty-something-year-old, she considered glumly. She knew she would have to go back in soon. And she would have to say her goodbyes. To some, like her in-laws, it would be for the last time. 

"Sarah, have you considered just running away?" Toby sat next to her when he returned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 

"I've considered everything." 

She rubbed furiously at her eyes with her fists. They'd find her if she ran. 

"I made a deal, Tobes," she gave in reply instead. "You don't renege on deals with the fae. You find loopholes and hidden clauses but you never leave deals unfulfilled." 

"You say you went into the Labyrinth and won me back." Toby rubbed the back of his neck. Talking about this made him uncomfortable, she knew. He felt guilty and still sceptical despite what he had seen. His cognitive dissonance came into play at every opportunity. "You will find a way to come back to us." 

"And then what?" Sarah laughed bitterly. "How do I just waltz back and explain my disappearance?" 

Toby sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Sarah. You have to sacrifice your entire life for one year with Henry. It was hardly a fair deal. I should have listened to you when you told me to stop." 

"Tobes, do not let this eat you up." Sarah didn't want his guilt to spiral into depression. "I was given a beautiful year with Henry. Your intentions were the best. I will find a way back to you. But just don't let it stop you from living your life." 

They sat together for a few minutes more until Claudia came to find Sarah. 

"Sarah, some guests are leaving." 

As Claudia went back inside, Sarah grabbed Toby's arm. 

"Just promise me you will never make a wish ever again, Toby," Sarah urged. "No matter how frivolous. And never say your name or anyone else's name in front of a fae, OK?" 

* * *

  
  


Hidden in the magnolia tree a barn owl shifted from talon to talon as he watched the Champion and her brother hug and cry. What was necessary, wasn't always right, and he hoped that in time she would see that the Earnáil na n-ulchabhán had no choice. And that she'd understand he had tried other avenues before the one they found themselves going down now. 

He cursed the Owl cult. He didn't even think their plan would work. He knew Sarah was unlikely to be forgiving for being ripped away from her mortal life. 

The ends justify the means, Athene had told him. 

If there was any ending in which the Champion was not happy, then there was no justification. He'd rather accept his fate then be saved by someone reluctant to do so. Especially  _ her _ . He couldn't be in debt to  _ her  _ if she resented her task. 

She already had too much power over him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole section with the wave in the Eulogy is taken from The Good Place. It is a quote from Chidi Anagonye to Eleanor in the final episode. :'(
> 
> This will be the last chapter for a while. I need to actually write some more. The next one is done but very roughly. 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well.


	4. Red, Red Wine

**CHAPTER THREE: Red, Red Wine.**

Sarah spent the next few days packing anything she wanted to take with her: special books, photos, precious jewellery, and her entire collection of underwear. Damned if she was going to be wearing old fashioned undergarments. She had also packed her cloth pads and her menstrual cup. Goodness knows if the fae even had periods. 

She had handed in her notice at work so she spent her days either sitting by Henry's grave or visiting the well to yell abuse at it. Her grief almost had her on the brink and spiralling. 

Whilst at Henry's grave she would confess to him how his life had been extended by a year and a day. She apologised profusely for having kept secrets from him in his last twelve months. 

"I never would have hidden the truth from you, if you would have believed the truth." 

She tried to visit her friends and family as often as she could. Especially Toby, who right to the last moment was still plying her with books for her to read. He was certain she could find a loophole. 

There was no loophole to be found. And Sarah knew without a doubt that she had to face her decision. At least she was protecting Toby. And at least she got the extra year. Her heart was heavy with everything she was leaving behind; her job, her friends, her family... 

She was facing the unknown but she was Sarah Williams-Warne. She conquered the Labyrinth. She'd conquer whatever this cult would throw at her. 

Eventually, the day of reckoning arrived. Sarah sat drinking wine until the moon arose. She contemplated facing them stoically and with grim acceptance. Instead, she placed her wine glass down on her coffee table and went to bed. 

Maybe if they couldn't wake her, they'd give up and leave her to sleep. 

* * *

  
  
  


Sarah woke to the feeling she was being watched. And the pervasive sense of being shaken awake. 

Her tongue was heavy and her senses were dulled by the wine. Her eyes felt like sand was rubbing under her eyelids, while her throat was dry and parched. And she was bloody well being shaken awake. What the fuck? 

She took one moment to acknowledge the divine scent ensnaring her senses. The air around her was fragranced with magic, vanilla, black raspberry and something ineffably beyond description. 

Magic? 

She cracked a gritty eye and saw at least ten members of the bird brain cult standing around her. She groaned and rolled over, where she came face to chest with a cult member lying in her bed. Above the covers, but in her bed nonetheless. 

"Why are you lying in my bed?" Sarah had tried to say. 

Instead, it came out as, "Why are you buying in my led?" 

Then for extra emphasis, she shoved at the person ineffectually with her hand. "Gerrout." 

"You were rather difficult to wake up, and it fatigued me." The voice was vaguely familiar. "No matter how much singing I engaged in and however many times I called your name, you refused to budge. I had to resort to shaking you awake."

"Mmm, I drank red wine." She smiled with her eyes closed in memory of her red wine-induced deep sleep. "I sleep like the dead when I drink red wine." 

Sarah heard his intake of breath as if he was about to speak when the Owl Goddess Guardian or whatever she was, cut him off. 

"That's enough, Eriché," came the familiar voice of Athene. 

Ah, so it was the same member that had granted her wish at the Owl Well. Sarah was certainly awake now. However, she snuggled defiantly back into her bed. 

"Rather ironic that I sleep like the dead when I am facing my own death," Sarah continued, rubbing her eyes. 

"That's enough melodrama from you," Athene's voice warned sternly. "You're not dying but facing your destiny." 

"It was my destiny to grow old with my husband." Sarah snapped her eyes open and glared scornfully over her shoulder at Athene who stood passively (she guessed, as she was still masked) by the side of her bed. "Not to lie in bed with complete strangers waking me up from my red wine-induced sleep to take me away to the fucking Underground." 

Athene shook her head. "Your destiny is bigger than that." 

Sarah yawned and glanced around the figures, patiently waiting around her bedroom. She should feel mortified, but she found she didn't give a fuck if they judged her for her wine-fueled, sleep-deprived, grief-stricken behaviour. 

"You lie." Sarah pushed up from her bed and pulled the covers closer to her body. Sarah wasn't quite sure why she had pulled the covers up. She was fully dressed in a grey t-shirt and black track pants. 

"I do not lie." Athene's voice was level and her tone concise. 

"There is no destiny bigger than love, so you lie." To Sarah, her own words sounded haunted, wounded, poetic and romantic. The reality, she thought bitterly, was that she probably sounded petulant. 

"Who said your destiny doesn't include love?" Athene asked in that same direct tone. Sarah was vaguely aware of Eriché leaving her bed at this point. 

"Because the man I love is buried in the ground after having to fight and lose against cancer, not once but twice in his short life," Sarah spat.

"You will miss him, but that doesn't mean you won't find love again, Champion." 

"And what is this bullshit about it being my destiny?" Sarah huffed. "You wanted to take Toby until I intervened." 

"Are all you mortals this belligerent?" another cloaked figure asked from the foot of her bed. 

"They would be if they were about to be kidnapped by owls, Your Majesty," Sarah muttered, keen to let the red wine do all the talking. 

"I am not Your Majesty," the voice replied. "Simply a Lord." 

"I was being sarcastic," Sarah mumbled. 

Eriché chuckled from where he stood beside her bed. "Lord Skiffington is quite unfamiliar with sarcasm." 

"Noted." 

It was not noted at all. She would never know which one Lord Skiffington was as they all looked and sounded the same in their fancy get up. 

"Victor," Sarah said, suddenly. 

"I beg your pardon?" Athene asked. 

"My dog." 

"What about your dog?"

Sarah sucked in a lungful of air. "He has to come with me." 

"It's a bit late to be making demands." Athene clasped her hands together. 

Sarah was aware of all the mutterings and impatience filtering through her room. She could only delay so long. 

"Well, where is your dog?" Eriché asked on his mother's behalf. 

"There." Sarah pointed to a box on her dresser. "And Merlin has to come too."

She slid out of bed and pushed past the bodies that accumulated between her and her dresser. She grabbed the two oak boxes that contained her dogs and placed them gently into one of her bags. 

"I can't believe I nearly forgot you, my boys." Sarah ran her finger over their names etched into the wood. 

"You've packed three bags?" Eriché asked, his tone bemused. 

"Yes." Sarah slung the two bags over her shoulders and clasped her suitcase with both hands. "If I have to uproot my entire life, I want to take some of it with me." 

Athene nodded. "Are you ready now?" 

Was she? No, never. Then a sudden thought occurred to her as she ran her tongue over her fuzzy teeth. 

"Well, actually I need to brush my teeth and go to the toilet, but it's rather uncomfortable with such a big audience." 

"We have facilities where we're going, but we can wait while you attend to your ablutions." 

"How kind." She mock-bowed. Before placing her belongings down again and rushing to the loo. 

She already knew the window was far too small for her to escape through. So she set about brushing the fuzz off her teeth and contemplating her dire situation. A dire situation that surely her family would be grievously stressed about. 

She brushed her hair and stuck it into a bun, then splashed cold water on her face. She dabbed a towel to dry her skin as she glared at her bleary reflection in the mirror. It took her a few moments to realise it was her eyes and not the mirror that was hazy. She should have drunk less wine. 

Maybe she should use the opportunity to call Hoggle. Ask him to hide her. But she couldn't put her friend at risk. 

Upon her return, she noticed that one of them had picked up her belongings for her. She hastily snatched up the largest rucksack that had her most prized possessions inside. 

She placed her toothbrush and toothpaste inside the front pocket. She wasn't going to brush her teeth with chalk and a stick. She was dubious about Underground dental care. What she would do when the toothpaste ran out was future, sober Sarah's problem. 

"Also, my family are going to worry and wonder where I've been." Sarah had held onto this point in her absence and she was damned if she was going to forget it. 

"Their memories will be altered so as not to despair of your loss," Athene explained. "If you ever came back, it would be like you never left." 

"If I came back?" Sarah's brows shot up into her hairline. "You mean, I could come back?" 

"No." Eriché crossed his arms. "Do not feed her false hope, mother." 

"Prince Eriché—" an older female voice chastised him sternly. 

"Do not think to discipline me, Heltha." Eriché shook a gloved finger at the person who spoke. "I will not be swayed on this point." 

"I was just telling her what would happen if she were to—" Athene began again. 

"Do not give the girl false hope." He punctuated each word he uttered with a swish of his swagger stick against his thigh. 

Sarah blinked as the tension rose in the room. 

"I am hardly a girl." Sarah couldn't think of anything else to say. "I am over forty years old." 

"Prince Eriché, your mother is the authority on this, and it is not your place to question her." A masculine voice this time. 

Eriché brandished his swagger stick towards the speaker. "You forget yourself." Then he turned to Sarah. "My mother intends well, but she is incorrect in her supposition that you can return here." 

"I have decided I don't like you very much," Sarah mumbled under her breath as she pulled her belongings tighter to her body. 

The room filled with shocked gasps and all ten to twelve masked faces turned to face her. With dawning realisation, she concluded she had uttered her contempt of him louder than she had thought _. How many glasses of wine had she had to drink?  _

Sarah giggled nervously. "That was meant to stay in my head." She shrugged. "But it's still true." 

She clasped her hand over her mouth and giggled again. 

Eriché tilted his head at her. "You do not even know me, and you think to hate me?" 

"It's the vibe you give off," Sarah snapped. "None of you showed me your faces before you came to kidnap me. I don't like cowards much." 

Sarah thought of Hoggle and cringed. 

"Unless they are redeemable," she amended. She didn't know if the Goblin King was present or not, so she just had to say it in case he was secretly mocking her in her own room. It wouldn't do to have him think she disregarded her friend so easily. Damn the wine for making her too loose of tongue. 

"We are not kidnapping you, Champion," Athene said with a facade of patience. "You exchanged Toby for yourself." 

"Whatever my so-called destiny is, it certainly isn't to be friends with my kidnappers." Sarah pushed on regardless of what Athene was saying. 

"Your Majesty, are you sure this is the right mortal?" asked one of the masked males. 

"Do you doubt your Queen and leader?" Heltha—who had spoken earlier—asked sharply. 

There was some shuffling and fidgeting before all eyes were back on Athene. At least she guessed they were if they were open under their identical off-white porcelain masks. Sarah observed that close up they were carved with feather-like marks and were very owlish in shape. She blinked as she realised she had been staring at the nearest one to her and they had started canting their head at her. 

"No, no, he is right," Sarah said, pointing at the speaker. "I am the wrong mortal. Whoopsie. Better fly off and bother someone else then." 

"You are the right one." Athene tapped her own nose with her finger. "You are the Champion of the Labyrinth. It's true victor." 

"Oh, this has been a huge mistake," Sarah replied, slapping her forehead. "Yeah, that's definitely not me. Oh well." 

"I can smell and taste the Goblin King's defeat on you," Athene replied coldly. "You are it's Champion." 

Someone behind her inhaled sharply. 

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the guardian but didn't retaliate any further. 

"Now, Eriché." Athene stepped towards her son. "Perhaps we can leave without further incident." 

Sarah glanced at the clock. No wonder she still felt intoxicated. She'd only been asleep for an hour. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. 

"Can I please stay here?" Sarah collapsed on her bed, her bag still in her arms. "My bed is so comfortable. And I have wine." 

"The Underground has a plethora of comfortable beds and wine," Eriché cajoled. "You may even find yourself a comfortable bedfellow." 

"My husband just died," Sarah hissed. 

"So you're going to become celibate?" 

"That's none of your fucking business." Sarah sat back up and glared at him. "Are all fae males as insufferable as you are?" 

The followers all gasped and clamped gloved hands over their masked mouths. Eriché knelt on the edge of her bed and leaned towards her, tutting. 

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Delicate little flowers aren't you? Can't handle a bit of fucking swearing."

"It's more the tone in which you speak to me," Eriché whispered, humour in his voice. He bent closer to her, still whispering, "I am a Prince as well as the firstborn of Athene. No one speaks to me thusly." 

"I don't fucking care." Sarah stood back up. "You're all thieves and liars so I don't have to mind my manners with you."

"Enough," Athene shouted. "It is time." 

Sarah backed up slowly, clutching her bag to her chest. This was it, she guessed. No more dallying. 

Eriché kicked his legs off her bed and walked around to her. "Time to be the Champion you declared yourself to be." 

She didn't have any time to process his words. She was pretty certain she had only just finished denying that title. He placed his hands on her upper arms, and the whole room lurched and Sarah closed her eyes as her stomach rose into her throat. 

The next second it was over, Sarah opened her eyes to see Eriché peering down at her. For a millisecond, she imagined she could make out his eyes, but she blinked and it was just black fathomless holes again. 

He released her and Sarah stepped back to see that she was surrounded by the cult in a very green, purple and blue landscape. Sarah couldn't focus on what she was seeing as her wine was forcibly trying to come back up. She knew she was nowhere near the Labyrinth. It was cool, damp and not arid. 

"Welcome to Athenele," Athene stepped forward as Eriché stepped back. "Your home will be here while you recover and process your grief. You will receive training when you are ready and over time you will become a functional member of our group." 

Sarah blinked to clear the haziness that had settled over her. As her bile receded to where it belonged, she cast her eyes over her 'new home.' 

It was a tree. A massive sprawling tree that reached high above the other trees. White stairs wove their way around the trunk all the way up to the purple canopy, where owls were swooping around. Sarah's vision swam as she looked up at the great heights so she tore them away back to the ground level. 

Everyone started moving but Sarah felt frozen to the ground; which Sarah just noticed was the softest looking green grass she had ever seen. She just wanted to lay down in it. Henry would have loved to lie in that grass with her. 

"Come on, Champion," Eriché said from behind her. "Time to go home." 

She watched as the cloaked figures entered the massive double doors or went up the staircase she had noticed earlier. She saw the fae with her suitcase leading the crowd. Still, she could not move. 

"I am afraid the wine is trying to spoil your beautiful grass," Sarah muttered. 

"How much did you drink, Champion?" His voice was soft and almost  _ caring _ . Having not expected any form of kindness, tears pricked her eyes. She exhaled violently until the moment passed. 

"Enough to make me regret drinking it before interdimensional travel." Sarah clutched her stomach. 

"There will be a potion inside Crann Comhacha that will help with the sickness." 

"Crann—?" 

"The Owl Tree." 

Sarah took unsteady steps towards the double doors. 

Inside people were lounging around on mismatched wooden furniture, while the ones who had been in her room were disrobing their cloaks and masks. Sarah scanned the blonde-haired faes meandering around. None of them looked familiar. 

She was curious about Eriché as she had spoken to him more than any of the others but he was still cloaked and masked, following behind her. 

Sarah was distracted by a blonde female sprinting towards her. 

"Oh, you are finally here," she cried, grinning the widest grin she had ever seen a fae give. "I'm Minni."

"Hi, Minni," Sarah replied, warily. 

Her smile lit up her blue eyes like pools of water hit by moonlight. She had long golden blonde hair down to her waist, contained by three plaits, looped together. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips were full. She looked cherubic compared to the cold and aloof fae. While they all moved with—frankly annoying—grace, she was more energetic in her motions. 

"I am so glad you're here." She was positively beaming. "I have been hearing all about you and you're just as beautiful as I was told you were." 

"Ah." Sarah looked around but she seemed to be left in this female's clutches. 

"I hope you like it here," she continued, unabated. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, swishing her baby-blue, glitter strewn dress around her ankles. 

"Forgive my younger sister for her enthusiasm," came another voice. This one was deeper and more measured, but still feminine. 

Sarah turned to face the taller female. She wore a deep forest green dress, and her hair was a dark blonde in a severe twist on the top of her head. Her eyes were also a darker shade of blue and her lips were thin and unsmiling. 

"The name you can call me is Sulis." 

"Nice to meet you, Sulis."

She nodded. "You will be staying with us, Champion." 

"I see." 

"Will you follow us?" 

Sarah glanced around and spotted Eriché leaning against a pillar watching her. 

She turned back to Sulis. "Eriché mentioned a potion to help with the nausea from travelling here."

Sulis glanced at Eriché. " _ Prince _ Eriché is correct. We can find you what you need. Come with us. Your belongings have already been dropped off in your cell." 

Cell? It was surely her prison. She nodded grimly and followed. 

"Oh, this is going to be so exciting," Minni gushed. "To see history unfold before our very eyes." 

"How so?" Sarah asked, puzzled. 

"Not now, Minni." Sulis shook her head and marched them towards a set of stairs. "Champion, your questions will be answered in time." 

"Tell me, why everyone calls me Champion but not by my name." 

Minni gave a dramatic gasp. "Because you have not been given an Ulchabhán name yet." 

"But I have a name." 

Minni shook her head good-naturedly. "Never give your real name to anyone." 

Sarah considered that she had heard no one call her Sarah, except she was sure The Goblin King had called her by her name all those decades ago. Maybe twice but definitely once. 

"Your husband should be allowed to call you by your true name in private," Sulis interjected stiffly. "If you trust him." 

"My husband is dead," Sarah reminded her. "And I won't be marrying anyone of the fae variety anytime soon. Or at all." 

"Here is your cell." Sulis ignored her as they approached a door at the top of the flight of stairs they just ascended. "Perhaps take some respite and then we will talk more when you wake."

Her 'cell' was not a prison cell but it was little more than a camp stretcher, a large chest and a chair and vanity. Her suitcase and remaining bag were tucked up against the wall. The walls were made from the tree they were residing in. Circular windows showed her views of forests and fields of that lush green grass. 

Perfect for frolicking. 

Frolicking? Sarah needed to sober up fast. 

"Here." 

Sarah spun around regretting her sudden movement instantly. 

Athene stood there without her robe and mask. "I was told you needed this." 

She proffered a vial. Sarah looked at it dubiously. 

"We have no intentions of harming our champion," she pressed. 

Sarah took the vial and drank it. It was sweet and aromatic, like lemon and ginger. Instantly she felt her dizziness disappear. 

"Thank you." 

"I lost a lover once," she continued. "It was hard to recover, but recover I did. And you will too. You are strong, Champion." 

"Forgive me if I am not ready to hear your platitudes." 

"Just a warning, Champion," she intoned softly, "I will forgive you while you are grieving and angry. But I am royalty down here. It would be best if you remember that." 

Sarah placed her rucksack on the edge of the bed. "I will remember that you were keen to kidnap my brother if I hadn't taken his place. I will remember that you were willing to take him away from his wife and his children." 

Athene smiled. "Get some sleep, Champion."

Sarah was left alone in a strange new world surrounded by strangers. She was tipsy and jetlagged from travelling Underground. She knew she had zero choice but to crawl into the bed. 

Comfortable bed, my arse, Sarah thought uncharitably as she started to doze off. 

* * *

A beetroot rolled in a lackadaisical manner past his feet. They were playing Pumpkin Roll. Again. For the third time today. The game didn't even involve a pumpkin, but a rather filthy and dehydrated beetroot. Bog knows why it was called Pumpkin Roll. 

He watched as the poor moisture-deprived root vegetable wobbled to a standstill. He glanced from the depleted foodstuff to the quivering clutch of Goblins that had gathered to watch its progress. 

Jareth growled and sent a sure-footed aim at the beetroot, sending it soaring over the heads of the cheering Goblins and into a hedge in his gardens. 

"Hey!" 

Not a hedge then. A Hedgeling—a living hedge that lived within his Labyrinth. 

He clicked his tongue at the Hedgeling. It shouldn't be in  _ his  _ gardens. He had become distracted of late and he had allowed his control over certain aspects of his labyrinth to slacken. 

No matter. It soon wouldn't matter. Not if the Earnáil na n-ulchabhán had a say. If their plan worked or failed, either way it wouldn't matter. 

He loathed how that cult had taken him away from his responsibilities, but yet… 

He sighed as he walked away from the riotous Goblins to take the path around his lake. 

It didn't matter how it came about, just as long as it did. Destiny had to be fulfilled one way or another.  _ She _ would see that eventually. Which  _ 'she' _ he was currently thinking about, was anybody's guess. Maybe both. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to get this out earlier this week. But I ended up with tonsilitis. And my first covid test. Which was thankfully, negative.
> 
> But here it is, for better or worse. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I appreciate all the kind words people have already given me. :) Thank you.


	5. Curadh

**Chapter Four: Curadh**

As Sarah's eyes fluttered open, reality crashed down upon her, seizing her internal organs and flooding her with cortisol. She didn't need to take a moment to remember where she was or why she was there. She was waking up with no Henry beside her.

She was waking up without his arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer. Without his lips pressed into the crook of her neck as he whispered the plans of the music he would compose in an ode to her beauty. His scent, his taste and his warmth were all missing.

She pressed her palms into her damp eyes as she imagined him moving around their kitchen, making her breakfast as he sang sweetly to whatever was on the radio. She would never wake up like that again.

She could hear movement all around the Crann. And she wondered if she was expected to get up or she could stay in bed. She felt an immovable heaviness settling on her.

After a few moments of contemplation, she settled on rolling back over and staying in bed. She had just closed her eyes when there was a light tap on her door.

"Champion, are you awake?"

It was Minni.

Sarah grunted and slid out of bed to answer the door.

"Good morning, Champion," Minni greeted her brightly. "I am to show you around and then take you to breakfast."

Sarah nodded, as she wiped her eyes. She asked if she could at least get dressed and ready first. Minni showed her where the clothes were, her washbasin and how to use a magically self-cleaning chamber pot.

"How long did I sleep?" Sarah asked after she emerged from her cell wearing tan coloured leather trousers and a white shirt with a tan coloured cotton vest over the top. Sarah had been mildly surprised she wasn't required to don dresses like those she had seen in her peach dream. No, this was much more acceptable. Especially the comfortable boots she was wearing.

Sarah observed that the people gathered around were not just fae, but other species of being. One incredibly tall elf-like creature ambled past with blue skin and violet hair and eyes. None of them were wearing their cloaks and masks.

"About thirteen hours," Minni answered with a big smile. "You missed Prince Eriché before he left."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Is that an issue?"

"I think he likes you," Minni whispered conspiratorially, as she led her around the Crann.

Sarah scoffed. "I am a married woman. And not interested."

Minni frowned. "He will be back. None of us live here. We all have our own homes to go back to. He had business to take care of and—"

She stopped when she saw Sarah had stopped following her.

"What is it?"

"Except me," Sarah pointed out. "I have no home to go to, except where I just came from."

"Oh. You will find a home. The higher-ranking members, called the Othlu, will assess you and then there is an auction to see which Othlu will take you on as their apprentice. Then you will live with them until you are trained."

"Auction?" _Fucking brilliant._

"You have to learn our ways."

"But to be auctioned off?" Sarah pressed her lips into a thin line.

"I suspect I know who will win." Minni gave a girlish giggle.

"Enough, Minni." Sulis appeared like a cloud on a sunny day. "The poor creature has just lost her mortal husband. Remember how Mother felt when she lost hers."

"Yes, Sulis." Minni bowed her head. "I am sorry, Champion."

"It's fine." _It wasn't fucking fine._

"Mother is looking for you, Minni." Sulis swept past them both and they followed her to an alcove off the main chamber. Sarah followed, watching Sulis' blonde ponytail sway side to side. It was the first time she had seen her with her hair out of the sharp knot on the top of her head.

Sarah was curious, but it was hardly a surprise when their mother turned out to be Athene. Which made Eriché their brother. Sarah rolled her eyes at the implications that Minni was trying to set her up with her brother.

"Good morning, Champion." Athene was sitting on a throne made of twisted branches. Upon her head, she wore a crown of sticks and feathers. Similar to her own clothing, she wore trousers and a shirt of soft fawn material and linen.

Sarah was unsure if she was required to curtsy so she just inclined her head.

"Tonight we will complete the naming ceremony and from there we will start your training. After the turn of the moon, we will complete the Ceant rite so you may find your Othlu."

Sarah gritted her teeth. She wasn't about to be auctioned off like a head of cattle.

"And in the meantime," she continued, "break your fast."

Sulis cleared her throat. "Mother, I request that the mortal"— Athene cocked her brow at her—"that the Champion has time to mourn and adjust before the Ceant and her training."

Athene shook her head. "We have been over this Sulis. We need the Champion trained and ready before Lá sábhála."

"Mother, remember how you felt when father passed away." Sulis knitted her brows together. "And then bear in mind how the mor—the Champion is also taken away from her world to this."

Sarah was mildly surprised that Sulis of all people was defending her right to grieve.

"This is her world and always has been." Athene steepled her fingers and peered over the tips with raised brows as if in challenge.

"But she has not grown up in it."

Athene glanced at Sarah. "Champion, the Gardens of Mourning or rather the Gairdíní na Muinteartha are yours to seclude yourself in anytime that you require, but I urge you to take your training seriously. And to present the best front to the Othlu at the Ceant."

She rose suddenly from her throne. "We want the best candidate to be able to train you and train you quickly. But you need to be able to prove to the Othlu that you are worthy of their time."

"And then what?" Sarah crossed her arms. "After I am trained, do you marry me off and I become a subservient broodmare?"

"Your position and your role within Earnáil n na-Ulchabhán will secure your lodging and a living."

"What is my purpose?" Sarah had suspected that this whole scheme had everything to do with Goblin King, but she still hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. She needed to know what she was doing here.

"All will be revealed in time, Champion." Athene swept a hand through her long hair and pushed it over her shoulder. "For now your task is to break your fast. Then Minni will show you the Gairdíní na Muinteartha."

* * *

The Gairdíní na Muinteartha where she found herself after a breakfast of oats and fruit, was exquisite.

Bamboo-like plants created a private glade and in the centre was a fish pond with an ornate wooden and stone bridge across the middle.

Next to a pile of silk pillows was a marble statue in the shape of a woman. But this woman had wings and a beak similar to that of an owl. Her head was bent in sorrow and her hands outstretched in supplication.

Minni told her she was the Mourning Owl or the Wailing Owl in some sects of the cult. Sarah was supposed to sit on the cushions and cry. Each tear would be an offering through the mourning owl to the Owl Goddess, Ragana. Ragana was one of the goddesses associated with mourning, so nearly every cult member would have a garden or shrine dedicated to her.

Ragana would then provide succour in the form of healing.

"Ragana is the reason our cult exists," Minni said in a hushed voice. "She is one of the most powerful deities and the cult of Earnáil na n-ulchabhán is in her honour."

Sarah absorbed this information and politely acknowledged her words. Sarah wasn't going to deride someone's religious beliefs. But how was she to be a part of a cult when she had no inkling of this Ragana?

"Have you met this Ragana before?"

"Not me." Minni shook her head vehemently. "Mother and Sulis have. And my brother, Eriché _will_ meet her."

"How so?"

Minni nibbled her lip. "I don't think I can say."

"Why haven't you met her?"

Minni sighed. "She doesn't live in this plane of existence. All deities live in Dia. The gods and goddesses can come here when summoned with the right ritual. So it is rare that we see them. And if we go to where they live in Dia, we can never cross back over."

She said this with an air of sadness that didn't suit her cheery disposition.

"So is that where you go when you die?"

Minni shook her head. "No. Our souls pass on to Éag."

"Is that where my husband—"

"Champion, I can't answer that question," Minni replied, hanging her head. "I know not of mortal lives and their thereafters."

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. "Apologies, Minni. But as you can imagine, it is rather hard having to adjust to a new life and finding myself part of a cult."

"Our cult is sacred and it is a great honour, Champion."

Sarah laughed. "In my country—my kingdom so to speak—a cult usually means everyone lives in a commune, follows a narcissistic leader, does drugs, has sex and lots of brainwashing occurs."

Minni's eyes widened and she shook her head. "We come together to celebrate Ragana, but everyone has their own lives. Some of the members are Kings or Queens of different kingdoms. We do not live together. We only meet together for important events like your auction."

"Why did you want my brother?" Sarah glossed over the mention of her auction, as with everything heaped onto her, it was going into the too-hard basket.

Minni bit her lip and smiled. "We just needed someone that was fae touched. That was all."

Sarah suspected that wasn't all. Minni pointed out a few more features of the garden before she left her to it. Sarah sunk into the pile of silk pillows and looked up the cold, pitiless face of the wailing owl.

"I don't think I am going to wail, if that's quite alright with you," Sarah muttered when she was sure she was alone. "I wouldn't know what to grieve first: my husband, my life or my freedom."

She twirled one of the tassels from the cushions, enjoying the silky threads washing between her fingers like water. She watched the clouds travel across the sky with the breeze pushing the bamboo together with both clicking and rustling sounds for her auditory company.

She found a kind of peace in the garden, regardless and spent many hours just thinking and staring at the pond or the plant life until Minni came and collected her. Henry was the one most on her mind. She suspected she ought to feel more sorrow than she had the energy to muster. But coming here to the Underground had provided a distraction from her grief. Not a welcome distraction. But one all the same.

While breakfast had been a casual meal with people coming and going, dinner was more formal with everyone sitting around in a circle around a sunken fire pit. Dangerous in the inside of a tree, Sarah observed wryly.

The meal consisted of meat and vegetables. Sarah didn't question the meat and where it came from. It crossed her mind that a cult of owls may have caught the meat themselves. She didn't want to think about it.

After the meal where she sat in silence with Minni and Sulis, they went to a communal bathing area outside the Crann.

The spring-fed hot water pools were down a short path in the woods. As the cult liked to be mostly genderless, Sarah observed the more masculine members as well as the more feminine and everything in between, all bathing together.

Sulis had noticed her hesitation. "Some members are uncomfortable with communal bathing, and choose to wear these."

_These_ were black silk slips that covered essential areas. Sarah helped herself to one and dressed hastily behind her towel. She noticed one or two others had opted for the silk slip too.

She wasn't embarrassed by her ageing body as she approached fifty. She knew her body was the envy of most people her age, and then some younger. Sure, some bits of her were saggier than in her twenties. She wobbled in bits that had been taut for most of her life. Some bits had stretch marks that glittered if they caught the light like lines drawn in the sand captured by the fading sun. She even had the odd wrinkle.

Her hair had grey that had silently crept in, but at least she had grown into her nose as she aged. Sarah enjoyed her mature body. Nudity had never phased her. But somehow, among these strangers, she felt comfort in the thin material clinging to her as she waded into the water.

After the bath, they all gathered—cloaked and masked—around a bonfire. Already, there was chanting and dancing. Sarah was uncloaked and unmasked. Apparently, the cloak and mask was a privilege that came after the ceremony following the Ceant. The Othlu who she would be assigned to would gift her the cloak and mask. A gift that Sarah would rather forgo if it meant not being bid on like a house in an auction.

Until then she was just an initiate, but tonight she could stop being referred to as Champion and acquire her cult name.

Minni had gone over everything she was required to do. Which was basically: 'sit on a cushion in front of the fire until Athene tipped water on her head and bequeathed her a name.'

A masked member guided her to this cushion and she sat staring into the fire. She stared at it so long she almost believed she could see figures dancing to the beat of the drums in the flames.

The music faded and Athene was before her, speaking in a language Sarah did not recognise. Then she lifted a ceramic pitcher with two hands before slowly tipping it over Sarah's head.

The water was warm but it seeped straight into the white, flowy, linen dress she was required to wear.

"Curadh," Athene said, smiling down at her. "Arise Curadh and be blessed in the name of Ragana."

Sarah stood; rivulets of water ran down her back causing her to shiver. She held out her hand, as she had been instructed to do, and Athene took it and placed an owl amulet in her hand.

"Fáilte, Curadh," Athene said, as she grasped her hand and held it up high for everyone to see the amulet. The crowd cheered and stamped their rhythm sticks. "Wear it always."

One of the other members came up behind her and Athene guided her hand to theirs. Sarah was almost alarmed until she realised they were just placing the amulet around her neck. To give them their credit, they seemed to be trying very hard not to touch her as they did it. Sarah felt the slightest brush of a leather glove on the back of her neck as the amulet settled into place.

"Welcome, Curadh," came the voice from behind her. She recognised it as Eriché who then guided her by her elbow around the circle of members. Each member would tip their head forward and bang their carved stick as she passed.

When she got back to her original spot, Eriché released her and lowered his own head to her.

"Blessings of Ragana, Curadh." He turned and headed back into the circle of followers.

The circle broke up and began dancing again around the bonfire. Minni tried to encourage Sarah to dance but she was rather fatigued from—well, everything, so she sat on a log to watch the festivities.

Occasionally, Minni or even Sulis would check in with her. She only recognised them by their voices as they wore their identical cloaks and masks. Sarah asked how she was supposed to recognise the Othlu, and Minni told her it was to do with the colour of their gloves.

Black gloves denoted Othlu. Grey gloves were worn by everyone else. White gloves by their leader, Athene. Sarah started noticing this detail immediately. She also found the ones with the black gloves were limited to five or six members, but they were always watching her.

She guessed they needed to observe her to ascertain if she would be a good fit to be their protégé.

Hours passed, and as the number dwindled, Sarah headed back to her cell in the wing of the tree where Sulis and Minni slept. On her way, she practised saying her new name under her breath. Somehow, not being known as Sarah and everything that came with her identity afforded her a freedom she had never experienced before.

* * *

The next day passed much like the first. Except after breakfast, Minni and Sulis sat her down with some books and papers and gave her a brief lecture on the history of the cult. They still wouldn't tell her what her task was.

After a light lunch, Sarah found herself back in the Gardens of Mourning. Then dinner, bathtime, and then most members would partake in some group meditation. Sarah watched but wasn't allowed to take part.

It was interesting to observe as they moved sensually around the main chamber with crystals and feathers in their hands chanting in a different language. Then it was bedtime.

The days passed like this ceaselessly. Minni was a constant distraction with all her chatter. Sulis was a rather excellent tutor, despite her dour disposition. There weren't many members left in Athenele, so the entire place was tranquil.

Sarah enjoyed her time in the gardens to herself. She found a sense of calm being in that spiritual place. She thought about Henry a lot. And Toby and Robert and Karen. She missed her family, but part of her was finding the routine and the serenity of Crann Comhacha to be somewhat healing.

Prince Eriché was not present. Minni bemoaned his absence daily.

"I remind you that my husband just died," Sarah muttered after hearing Minni inform her yet again that she hoped he would pick her to be his protégé. "And I thought the purpose of the Ceant was to find someone to guide me, rather than marry."

"Yes, but my brother is unwed and would be perfect for you."

"Maybe you should find someone to bond with if you are so desperate to get me bonded."

"I can not bond."

"Why not?"

"My role within the Earnáil na n-ulchabhán restricts any mateship." She shrugged.

"Your role?"

"I am a priestess of Ragana."

"So you're celibate?"

"Goodness, no." She giggled. "I can have sex with whomever I like. I just can not bond with one particular person."

Sarah stared blankly at her.

Minni exhaled. "I chose my role. A priestess is a very honoured position. I'd love to get bonded one day, but for now, I am content with my role."

Sarah shifted in her seat and tapped her finger against her lip as she soaked it all in.

"Besides I can live vicariously through you and Sulis and your romances."

"I will not be bonding myself to anyone." Sarah shook her head. "Is Sulis bonded, then?"

"Sulis is mated, but unbound."

"What does that mean?"

"She has one partner she shares an abode and responsibilities with, but they are not exclusive. They may court others if they wish."

"Sounds exhausting."

"Sulis is a huge romantic. She loves courting."

Sarah quirked a brow. Sulis did not seem the type to gain pleasure from romantic trysts.

"However, my brother, I am sure, would rather be bound to you than simply mated."

"I am a widow, Minni." And then something occurred to Sarah. "And I don't even know what Prince Eriché looks like or anything about him. All I know is that he is your brother and what his voice sounds like. And even then it is muffled by the mask he wears."

Minni nibbled her lip and laughed. "Well, you will definitely get to know him if he is your Othlu."

"If?"

"Well, there is always the chance one of the other Othlu will bid higher for you."

"What exactly do they bid?"

"Magic."

"Magic?"

"Yes, they bid with units of magic that then gets donated to the font."

"The font?"

"Where our magic gets stored. Every magical being has its own inner magic but also magic they can access from a font. For example, I am a Princess of Finch and can access the magic of Finch Lake. The Earnáil Na n-ulchabhán has the Owl Well and we store our collective magic in there. So during a Ceant, they bid with units of magic to be able to win an initiate."

"Why would they want to win an initiate?"

"Having a protégé earns them prestige and helps them climb the rankings." Minni shrugged. "In Eriché's case, it is because—"

"—He likes me." Sarah rolled her eyes. "You do know I told him I hated him when he came to bring me here."

Minni giggled. "You'll see that your hate does not diminish his lo—"

"Minni," Sulis interrupted, sweeping onto the balcony they were sitting on. "Everyone is arriving for the Ceant. It is time to prepare the Lot for her auction."

Sarah laughed. "Lot? I am about to be bid on and you dehumanise me even further by lowering me to the level of a _lot_."

Sulis cleared her throat and pulled her lips into a thin line. "If you are unhappy with our terms, then, by all means, rise through the ranks and effect change."

"I can't, can I?" Sarah pointed out. "I have no magic to bid with so I could never become an Othlu."

Minni parted her lips but slammed them shut again when Sulis levelled a stare at her.

"Please get ready for tonight."

* * *

Again, Sarah was surrounded by masked and cloaked people as she was led to stand on a wooden box in front of five figures cloaked in black who sat before her.

Sarah was dressed in a white flowy gown which she was almost certain was see-through. She didn't get to forty-odd years without feeling confident in her body, so she stuck her chest out and put her shoulders back. She stared down at the masked Othlu with a look that was both challenging and resolute.

The room was lit by hundreds of candles and the members in the background were all humming softly.

Athene swayed into her vision and sat on the floor in front of them.

"Othlu, you see before you a new initiate," Athene had opted to speak in the common tongue tonight. "Her Earnáil name is Curadh and she is from Above."

The Othlu muttered amongst themselves.

"She is, however, the Champion of the Labyrinth. She remains the only being in existence, aside from the Goblin King, to have made it to the centre."

More muttering.

Sarah kept her gaze steady despite her facial muscles fighting to tick at the mention of the Goblin King.

"Curadh, as such, has been given certain powers." Athene turned and glanced at her. Sarah gritted her teeth at the memories flooding through her. Having a part of _him_ inside her, made her cringe. Outwardly, she remained passive, as if this news did not affect her.

"She has been vigilant in her preliminary studies and she has adapted quickly to her surroundings, despite her grief."

"Grief?" asked one of the Othlu with a feminine voice.

"She has lost her mortal husband recently." Athene scratched under her eye and then ran her fingers over her lips. "But we all know a little pain and suffering brings us closer to Ragana."

Athene went on to describe Sarah's history and her studies with Sulis for a further couple of minutes before she rose off the ground.

"Let the bidding start."

"I place a bid at thirteen units." Sarah recognised Eriché's voice.

"Fourteen," came the feminine voice.

Four out of five Othlu entered the bidding war. The fifth one did not want a mortal protégé, no matter whose magic she possessed.

Shortly, it was just between Eriché and the feminine Othlu. They were up to forty-seven units of power. Sarah shifted in her seat and watched the flickering lights of the candles against the wooden backdrop.

When they had reached two hundred and twenty-five units, people were starting to gasp, and mutter. There was a silence after the feminine-voiced Othlu gave her last bid.

"Going to Zin, going once—"

"Two hundred and thirty." Eriché straightened his gloves and leant back in his chair.

Zin leaned over to look at him. "Why do you want her so much, Eriché?"

"Why do you?" He countered, resting his black-gloved hand upon his knee.

"She looks like a tasty morsel," Zin replied, cocking her head towards Sarah. "She would be fun to add to my Harem. Two hundred and thirty-one."

Sarah stiffened and her eyes widened. She was about to protest when Eriché stood up.

"Five hundred units."

"That's not fair!" Zin stood, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh, you say that so often—"

Sarah didn't hear anything more with the pounding of her heart in her ears and Athene announcing Eriché the winner of the Ceant.

A scattering of applause broke out and Eriché strode towards Sarah purposefully.

"I have a kingdom to run." He placed his hand on the back of the chair behind her shoulder. Sarah could feel his heat emanating in waves from his body. "Pack your things and say your farewells to my sisters. We have a long journey ahead of us."

"A long journey?"

"Yes, it is too far away for me to transport us there via magic." He straightened up. "Especially as I will be donating so many units of magic to acquire you. We will travel by gryphon to the nearest township and from there we will ride horses."

Sarah rose, slowly but steadily. "Where exactly is your kingdom?"

A short laugh. "The Goblin Kingdom, of course."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dun dun dun. Some of you saw that Eriché was Jareth. Well done, you. Some of you did not, which was surprising as I thought I made it obvious haha.
> 
> Sorry, there has been such a delay in getting this chapter out. My son has recently started primary school and as part of his transition programme, I have been having to stay with him and this means I absolutely get no child-free time at all. And in the evenings, I just haven't wanted to write.


	6. If I Could, Maybe I'd Give You My World

**Chapter Five: If I Could, Maybe I'd Give You My World**

_ "The Goblin Kingdom, of course."  _

She really should have known. Trickery and deceit was air to his kind's lungs. Jareth watched as his winnings shifted slightly in the chair, but to his surprise that was her only external reaction. 

"I see." She adopted a bored look and pose as he stepped back. 

_ No dramatics then, my precious thing?  _

"Do you?" Jareth dropped his voice an octave. She was taking this revelation easier than he thought. He had been absolutely certain she hadn't known who he really was behind his cult mask. Maybe she had known.  _ Clever thing.  _

Curadh yawned. "I think I will turn in for the night." 

She rose from her seat, but he was still in very close proximity to her. Close enough that he inhaled deeply of her scent. It was a warm, invigorating scent of fig and honey with floral undertones. Beneath all that was something uniquely her. Something no perfumery could ever replicate. Her scent dissolved the barrier he had placed around her real name in his mind.  _ Sarah. Not Curadh.  _ Outloud he couldn't call her anything but Curadh. No one else should have that power over her. Her name was his to say. 

He didn't budge from his spot; instead, he towered over her with an air of menace. She did not retreat; she stood her ground despite his threatening stance. 

"We are to leave as soon as you are packed and have said your farewells." He canted his head towards her. "I need to return to my source of power." 

Sarah laughed in his face and strutted past him. "Did you just admit you are currently weak?" 

He gritted his teeth, but he let his offence subside. "Curadh, you should be more careful about how you talk to me." 

He expected her to turn back to him with her fiery indignation, but she just kept on walking away from him. 

_ Ever the queen.  _

He didn't want to have to take her back to the Goblin Kingdom by force. He would rather she was willing. But he had won her in the Ceant, and once he had paid his debt he needed to be replenished. 

_ I was a fool.  _

A fool to place such a high bid. He couldn't let Zin win her. He had become desperate. Curse his mother for putting him in this position. 

He watched his winnings ascend the staircase and then he went over to his mother. 

"Let us get this done then." 

She nodded and steered him out the back door, down the ramp and into the forest. After a few minutes of walking in silence, she stopped and turned around, unhooking her mask and pushing her cloak away from her face. Jareth followed suit, finally free from his constraints. 

"Jareth, are you sure you can donate quite so much?" 

"Oh, now why the concern?" Jareth sniped. "You weren't so concerned when you told me I had to win her no matter the cost." 

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. "How did you expect the plan to work if Curadh is off being groomed into one of Zin's many wives?" 

"She would never let herself be entrapped in Zin's harem." A pause. "I would never let her be entrapped." 

"But so much magical energy, son—" 

"And tell me, isn't the payoff worth it?" 

"Are you asking me if I approve of her, or are you referring to the plan as a whole?" 

Jareth couldn't give two straws if she approved. It was her fault they were in the sorry mess in the first place. 

_ 'The man I love is buried in the ground.'  _

The words echoed around his brain, reminding him of the futility of the plan. It would never work. How would he get a grieving widow who—

"Jareth, I approve of her." His mother interrupted his introspection without waiting for his response. "She has some weaknesses that I am sure training will stamp out of her. But on the whole, she has potential." 

Jareth ground his teeth. "Oh, because all she is to you, is a means to an end." He snarled. "It doesn't matter what constitutes my happiness or indeed, hers." 

"You care for her happiness." 

Jareth couldn't work out if she was asking a question or making a statement. He looked away from her and swung his swagger stick half-heartedly against his thigh. 

"Shall we conduct the transfer?" He headed back down the path they were following until he reached the well. The field and the well were the mirror image of the well Aboveground. Wishes were few these days. 

The ground was once covered in thousands of silver coins but now all that remained were two; Toby's and Sarah's. Just like in his realm, wishes were a thing of the past. 

His stomach roiled with an unfamiliar emotion as he recalled his part in getting Sarah to use that well. 

The green book he had hidden all those years ago—just where she would find it —and the map he had left for Toby to find so he would bring her there were all his machinations. 

He had tried to execute the plan before and failed. And then when she married, he had given up. 

His mother hadn't, however. And she had informed him that her husband was dying. It was her that suggested they extend his life for as long as they possibly could in exchange for her return. 

He had been right that Curadh would sacrifice herself for her brother. He had provided that information when they plotted how to bring her back. 

Somehow, providing intimate details only he knew about her had felt like a betrayal. How would she ever see past all of this conniving?

At least, he could be rest assured that only he had her name. 

Her brother had been foolish enough to utter it when he made the wish. But with a little magic, he had managed to glamour over his blunder. Her name was his secret and he'd take it to his passing. His mother had asked, but he had refused. All his subjects knew her only as the Champion; except Hogbrain, the red beast and that blasted Knight. 

Their lives depended on keeping her name to themselves. If they so much as breathed a syllable they would be poisoned by their own words. He could have taken their memories away, but he needed her to still need those three traitors. If they were still in her life, Jareth knew he couldn't stray too far away from her mind. He didn't know why, but it was important that she still thought about him over the years. 

He placed his hands on the side of the well and his mother placed a blue stone upon the largest owl. She started chanting and Jareth felt his magic start to drain away. All the Owl carvings instantly turned blue as he deposited his magic into the font. 

As his energy started to ebb he knew the process would soon be over. His fingers dug harder into the stone as he waned.  _ This is for her.  _

Time ebbed and flowed in an immeasurable haze. Jareth could feel the very fabric of his being weave and unweave as his magic was leeched out of him. 

"You are done," his mother said after what was probably minutes but felt like weeks. She gently patted his arm in a mimicry of a maternal action. He released the well and stumbled backwards. His head spun and his lungs screamed and protested. He practically crawled a few metres to sit upon a grassy knoll to catch his breath and reorientate himself.  _ This is for her. The pain I endure; it is for her.  _

"Stay the night, Jareth." 

"No, mother." He pushed up from the ground. "I have to return home." 

"Are you in any shape to do so?" 

"I have to." 

"And if danger should accost you, can you protect yourself from harm? Can you protect Curadh?" 

His breath caught at the thought of harm coming to her. 

The nightmares he had after she won still haunted him. Nightmares of holding her dead body in his arms as they were surrounded by blood. Nightmares where she was flying above him and would be shot down by an iron arrow and he'd watch her body tumble and fall to the ground, unable to stop her descent before she was smashed mercilessly against a rock. 

Or the dreams that started well with her as his wife but then would descend into nightmares as she died giving birth to his child. Mortality was such a fragile gift.

He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on his swagger stick. She would have been safer staying Above. He should have accepted his penalty with good grace and never let his mother talk him into this scheme. Could he have sacrificed himself to save her from all of this? No, otherwise she wouldn't be here. 

"I can not recover here," he said, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. "I have to go back, mother." 

"Then leave the girl here and come back for her." 

It was a reasonable solution, but now that he had unequivocally won the right to be her Othlu, he couldn't leave her. What if the difference between succeeding in their plan or failing was the few days he left her behind? 

"We continue as planned." He rose and walked back to the Crann. "I will take a few restorative potions." 

He did as intended and took a few cloyingly sweet draughts and consumed some bread and fruit. He was eager to get underway. 

But first, he needed to cleanse himself from the arduous depletion of his magic. 

The pools were deserted and quiet at this time of the night. He stripped off and sunk under the warm depths. He summoned the soap and started lathering up his sponge. He ran it over his skin, easing away the toil and tension the magical exchange had provided. 

He stood up and stretched, aware that if anyone was to appear they would see more than just his naked bum. If only Curadh was here alone with him. Would she appreciate the way the moonlight bounces off his naked cheeks? Or the way the water sluices down his taut thighs? His mind turned to thoughts of her washing him with the sponge. 

Imagining her gently circling the sponge across his torso and moving it lower until… 

He groaned with the pain of his cock trying to come to life. He had absolutely no energy to spare for that activity tonight. He ignored his erection and climbed out of the pool, flopping onto his back and staring up at the sky, letting the cool air ease his stiffness. 

Eventually, he dressed in his Goblin King clothes rather than Earnáil na n-ulchabhán attire. He was more himself with that simple task. 

Once he felt a little more capable he headed back to the Crann and up the stairs to where he knew Sarah was bunking. He found his youngest sister standing outside. 

Ahjani— or as he had to call her here— Minni, was wringing her hands together as she paced outside Sarah's cell. 

"Minni?" 

She gasped and spun around. "Oh, Eriché, you're finally here." 

"What's the urgency?" Jareth's stomach suddenly had an uncomfortable sensation. 

"Curadh—" Ahjani spun away and indicated Sarah's cell. Jareth's heart twisted, but he didn't waste any more time questioning Minni. He marched into her cell to see what awaited him. 

Jareth was surprised to see her just sitting demurely on the bed with her bags all packed and ready to go. She turned her serene green-eyed gaze onto him. 

Nothing seemed amiss. He slid back out and found Minni still agitated. He placed a sound barrier between him and Sarah, though the effort of using magic—even as minute as this—rippled through him, leaving him bent over and gasping. 

"Minni, what in Bog's name is the problem?" He grabbed her by her shoulders. "Tell me."

"Curadh, she—" Minni shook her head. "Are you sure she is the one, Eriché?" 

"What is the meaning of this?" Jareth wasn't going to entertain anyone else's doubts. Let alone those of Ahjani. Yes, Sarah was not what the Earnáil na n-ulchabhán had been promised, but she was grieving. What had they expected? That she would instantly be happy to be here? At the reminder of her husband, his heart jolted. "Answer me, Minerva." 

"It's Minni." She shook his hands off her shoulders. 

"It's technically Minerva. That's the name you were gifted." 

He watched as Minni pouted. And then huffed. "She told me to fuck off." 

"And?" 

"I thought we were becoming friends." Minni placed her hands on her hips. "But when I tried to help her get ready, she told me to fuck off." 

Jareth sucked air between his teeth. "I thought something catastrophic had happened. But all that is wrong, is that you are offended by her tone with you?" 

"Eriché, she was really angry because you—" 

"Because I, what?" 

"Curadh knew somehow you would be involved in bringing her back here." Minni frowned and then stepped closer to him. "I think she had been partly hoping that if she found you, you may have helped her return home. That's the impression I got from amidst her angry tirade." 

Jareth's heart clenched and his emotions set off a tick in his jaw. He was never one to be a White Knight. He was never one to be the hero. But for her? If she asked it of him, if she had expected it of him, then he would have done it. After all, he had played her villain for ten hours bleeding into thirty mortal years. But now? Now it was too late. He couldn't rescue her. He couldn't be the one that helped her return Aboveground. 

"Minni…" He hung his head and ran his hand through his fringe. 

"She is determined, however, that she will only rely on herself to get out of this mess, as she put it." Minni frowned again. 

"That sounds like the Champion," he acknowledged.

"She doesn't sound very fond of you, J—Eriché." 

"And this has you agitated?" Jareth quirked a brow at her, smiling gently. 

"Yes, of course." 

"I didn't expect her to be happy right away, Min." In truth, he doubted she would ever find happiness. If she had given her heart to that mortal husband then what chance did—

"She seems to hate you." 

"I believe she probably does." Jareth laughed and patted her arm, tenderly. "But I won't have any other take her place, Minni." 

Minni's eyes widened with recognition and acceptance. 

"For what we need her to do, there is not another soul in this life or the next that I would want to attempt the impossible." 

"It won't be impossible." Minni was ever an optimist. "But why didn't you try and court her before it got so late?" 

"I tried." Jareth rubbed his temple at the memory of all his failed attempts. "I visited her many times since she first became my Champion. Every time she would turn me down." 

"And yet, you still want her to be the one that—?" 

"Yes." 

"But you could use any lover and complete the task before now." 

"While is true, that I am not strapped for attention—" 

"You only want her?"

Jareth nodded warily. Though he couldn't account for his own feelings on the matter, it was the truth. He once thought he could have foregone this entire scheme with any more easily accessible lover. He could have prevented her from being dragged down here. Spiky, acidic feelings flushed through him again. 

But he knew the reality was different. Minni was too young to have known he had tried to thwart his fate before. He never spoke of it. And he never would. 

He pushed his memory of his failed attempt to complete his task, to the back of his mind. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the same issues would not arise with his Champion. 

Yes, she may have rejected him when she was first here and then all the subsequent times he visited her, but she was made of sterner stuff than the subject of his previous attempt. Jareth was certain that she felt their connection, despite her protests. 

She had, after all, defeated the Labyrinth so if she wasn't the perfect candidate for this scheme, he didn't think anyone else would be up to the task. 

"It has to be her." 

"One would think if you had such strong feelings for her, you wouldn't want her condemned to this fate." Minni quirked a brow at him before spinning on her heel and entering her own room next to that of his current prize. 

A sharp pain stabbed his gut. His earlier thoughts compounded within him. He wouldn't think about her words now. Instead, he moved purposefully back towards his champion's room. The sound barrier he had placed, dissolved the moment he stepped through it. 

She still sat on the edge of her bed, but this time she was inspecting her nails and yawning. 

"Apologies for the delay." He pulled a crystal out of the ether to contain her bags. The magic he drew on highlighted his current depletion. The crystal was poorly formed. Like a child's clumsy first attempt at magic. He needed to return home. "It will save us time and energy if I place your belongings in this crystal." 

She raised a brow and nodded towards the suitcase and the rucksack by her feet but pulled the one she held tighter to her chest. 

"You can trust the magic will keep your belongings safe, Curadh." 

"Not this one." She tossed her braid over her shoulder as she stood. "This one stays with me." 

Jareth was loath to admit he was curious about what she contained in that bag aside from her dead dogs. He wondered if it also contained her dead husband in a box. He thought better of asking, however. 

He quickly cast the spell and her luggage was secured within the crystal. He placed it in the pocket of his jacket. 

"I assume you have not flown on a gryphon before?" 

"Oh yeah, all the time." Sarah rolled her eyes. "I frequently catch gryphons from New York to Chicago to visit my mother." 

He ignored her sarcasm. "Well, they are quite unpredictable creatures, so you shouldn't antagonise them. And make sure you don't hold too tightly or too softly and ensure you don't squirm or fuss while on their back." 

He watched as she slipped the bag onto her back and crossed her arms. Her face remained impassive except for the slight flaring of her nostrils. 

"Have you said farewell to Sulis and Minni?" 

"Minni yes, but I can't imagine Sulis would require a farewell from me." 

Jareth was surprised. He had bet that Sulis would be more to her taste than Minni. He smoothed his frown as he caught her glancing at him. Sulis was more similar to him in temperament. Minni, while friendly, was far more fickle and far less stable. 

He had offered Sulis the chance to help with training and keep her company. Had he made a mistake? 

"I believe you may be misjudging Sulis," he found himself saying. "Appearances can be—" 

"Deceiving, yes." 

He snapped his mouth shut as he watched her eyes narrow. 

"Is Sulis purposefully misleading me about her nature or is she really Hoggle in a disguise?" 

Jareth found himself unable to hold back a laugh at the image of Higgle disguised as his sister. 

"You may laugh, but for some reason you wanted me to believe you were merely a Prince, not a King." 

He did not detect accusation or bitterness in Sarah's tone. She merely expressed a fact. Instead of finding the passionate Sarah he had previously known, she was instead presenting herself as jaded. He reminded himself of her loss. She was sure to regain some of her former self over time. 

She hadn't known it was him under the mask and cloak. He had done nothing to disguise his voice. Was she that repelled by him, that she didn't recognise his voice? 

"I had assumed you knew it was me." 

Sarah sniffed and looked away. "You've always made a lot of assumptions where I'm concerned." 

He acknowledged she was probably correct. Each and every time he had visited her, he assumed he could win her over. That he would leave with her hand clasped in his. But each time she laughed in his face and refused his offer. 

"Sulis is not Hogpile in disguise." He wrinkled his brow. "She obviously has a real name that you are unfamiliar with. Unless you become part of our family, which is only possible if you—" 

"I'm not marrying your sister so I don't require her real name." 

"No." He decided against correcting her error. "Sulis is already married." 

"But she's not  _ Hoggle _ ." 

He spun on his heel and gestured to the door. "We need to make a move, Curadh."

He watched her frown at the use of her cult name but she didn't say anything as she walked past him. 

As they walked through the Crann he resumed where he left off. "Technically I am also a Prince, not just the Goblin King." 

"I don't—" 

"Prince is my cult title. I am not the High Prince or anything so grand." 

"Er—" 

"But my mother is the Queen of her Kingdom, and I am the heir. So I am a Prince in more ways than one." 

Still, she remained silent. Jareth gritted his teeth in frustration. He led her outside and towards the tower where the gryphons were kept. 

Ahead of them was Sulis. He let her throw her arms around him and then stepped back to observe her with the Champion. 

She nodded at Sarah and then stood back to let them pass. Sarah barely raised as much as a brow to Sulis. 

Jareth clamped down on his frustration. He had relied on Sulis, or Raethi, (as he knew her) to be the one who helped Sarah adjust to her new life. 

Minni didn't take the responsibility seriously enough. She was more likely to announce everyone's real name than to help him get to his main goal. Sulis was level-headed and much like him, she held her title and crown with pride. 

"We will see you shortly, Sulis." He watched his sister smile warmly at him before it dissolved instantly as Sarah walked passed. He would have to ask her about it when she visited. 

They climbed the stairs, still in silence. He chatted amicably to the gryphon keeper before he brought them the beast they were to ride. He observed Sarah—out of the corner of his eye—flinch. But she collected herself and straightened up as the magnificent creature pawed the ground before her. 

He climbed up and settled himself comfortably on the gryphon's back. He took her backpack from her and clipped it on to the saddle. 

"Come on, Curadh." He held out his hand for her. She took it with no small measure of reluctance and he pulled her up to sit before him. He took a small moment to enjoy the heat of her between his legs, before urging the beast into flight. 

She was shortly scrambling for purchase, and so he gently enclosed her hands in his and guided them to hold on. He held his hands there a little longer than necessary before finding his own hold. There was something otherworldly about touching her that he couldn't describe. Something that brought him paroxysms of bliss through to his core. 

He swore under his breath for letting the mortal that bested him under his skin. He had to cure himself of her charms. 

He steered the gryphon to the edge of the platform overhanging the side of the tower. With one last effort, he urged the beast off the side of the platform. 

Whatever it would cost him in the future, and whatever it cost him to get to this point, at the very least he knew he was one step closer to thwarting Ragana at her own game. He had his Champion right where he needed her. Hopefully, she would forgive him for what was to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from a Fleetwood Mac song, Go Your Own Way.
> 
> I think I may be a powerful witch. My husband is currently listening to the radio as he does renovation on our kitchen. And this song totally came on the radio as I was typing up the author note. 
> 
> Spooky. Or magical. It was meant to be.
> 
> I hope you're all well. 
> 
> My son has finally had a half day at school without me there. :D
> 
> Yay. Time to write again. 
> 
> Thank you for your reviews and support.


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